


Unwritten

by PorcupineGirl



Series: Unwritten 'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alpha Dean, Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bookstore Owner Dean, Charlie Ships It, Community: deancasbigbang, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2015, Denial of Feelings, Explicit Consent, I'm told this is a/b/o for people who don't like a/b/o, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Medical Procedures, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, True Mates, Writer Castiel, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 10:26:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 75,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5087059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcupineGirl/pseuds/PorcupineGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spontaneous scent bond is the stuff of romance novels: an alpha and an omega meet by chance, and they happen to be so compatible that their pheromones are perfectly aligned, drawing them irresistibly together to mate and bond for life.</p><p>Neither bookstore owner Dean Winchester nor science fiction novelist Castiel Novak have ever thought it sounded romantic. Your hormones going nuts and tricking you into tying yourself to a complete stranger for the rest of your life? No thanks.</p><p>But when Castiel comes to Dean's store for a signing, they feel an inexplicable pull toward each other, and into a powerful bond that neither of them wants. A bond that shouldn't even be <i>possible</i> for two alphas.</p><p>At least they agree on one thing: they will not let biology determine their fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: The mechanics of this omegaverse are not quite typical. The most important things you should know going in are that "sex" refers to alpha/beta/omega status while "gender" refers to male/female, that male omegas and female alphas exist but are extremely rare, and that omegas really aren't any more oppressed than women are in our society. I think anything else that's vital to understanding the plot is explained in the story.
> 
> If you want to know more about the mechanics of the universe, the second story in this series is an appendix that explains the universe in excruciating detail. So if you find something confusing, read that, then feel free to ask if you're still confused.
> 
> Many many thanks to [Winter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Winter_of_our_Discontent), my beta, for much cheerleading and handholding and discussion of the finer points of omegaverse. If you have not read her [Astrolabe](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3348812), go read it. I mean, after you read this, obviously. :)
> 
> And to my artist, [hulksass](http://hulksass.tumblr.com), for awesome art in a style that I love!

Dean hears the bell above the front door jingle and realizes it must be eight, the rest of his staff must be arriving. Which means he needs to shift gears so they can get all the normal before-opening shit done on top of setting up for the signing.

Dean has already been there for an hour, wiping down any bookshelves that looked a little dusty, vacuuming, and cleaning fingerprints off all the glass he could find. He knows that a signing will bring in people who've never set foot in the store before, so he likes to come in a little early on the day of and make sure the place looks extra-nice, try to make sure those new people will want to come back. He's also made sure that there are a few extra signs advertising their buying policies for used books; people are more likely to come back if they convince themselves they're the ones getting something out of the deal, even though half the people who come in to sell wind up spending whatever cash they get right there in the shop.

Jo is the first one in, carrying the sign she'd picked up after work with the author's name, photo, and book cover on it. One advantage of being the boss is that there was nobody to reprimand him for nepotism when he hired his own cousin a couple years after taking over. He's never regretted it; she's the assistant manager now, and earned that promotion herself by being his most reliable employee. Well, besides Charlie, but since she splits her time between the bookstore and her own computer business, she'd never be interested in a manager position.

"Easel's in the back," Dean nods toward the storage area, "Start bringing extra chairs out while you're at it."

"Yes, sir! And good morning to you, too." Jo gives him a sarcastic salute, but heads for the back without slowing down. 

His staff knows he gets a little antsy whenever they have an author coming in, and nobody really blames him. The store isn't huge, and a couple dozen extra people crammed in makes everything a little harder to control. Once an omega who was unwittingly starting her first heat had come to a signing, now _that_ had been fun. It was a good thing that Dean was an alpha who was good at keeping his wits about him; he didn't want to think how bad it would have been if she'd gotten more than a few feet into the crowded store before he smelled her and sent Jo to escort her home. As it was, they nearly had a fight break out between a couple of unmated alphas before Garth got enough Phero-Kleer sprayed around to calm everyone down.

Charlie and Garth arrive together, as usual. They live in the same building and usually carpool. Charlie literally _bounces_ into the store, Garth loping after her with fond amusement on his face.

"Eeeeeeeee!" She clutches at Dean and he stumbles back, catching himself on the counter. "It's today, Dean! Castiel fucking Novak is gonna be here _today_! I've got the entire series in my bag, if I'm really nice you think he'd sign them all for me?"

"Dude, _chill_." He takes her by the shoulders to stop her jumping up and down in front of him. "I'm sure he'll sign whatever you want, but he'll be here in a half hour and we've got a lot to do before then. One of you two help Jo with the chairs, the other one can go get the boxes of _Apocalypse Averted_ out of the back and make a display out of 'em."

"Sorry, boss, I shouldn'ta let her stop at Starbucks on the way." Garth shakes his head as he walked by. "Guess she didn't need caffeine this morning."

Dean knows Castiel Novak is one of Charlie's favorite sci fi authors, and she's been increasingly excited since the day his publicist had scheduled the event. His _Alien Angels_ series has been ongoing for nearly a decade, and the sixth book just came out a month ago. There are rumors that he's in talks for a movie deal for the first in the series; Dean is secretly glad that it hasn't gone through yet, as it would probably mean that he'd draw a bigger crowd than they could accommodate. Dean's read the books, and he definitely likes them, but he prefers horror to sci fi; if they ever had Carver Edlund in he'd probably be acting just like Charlie, but the odds of that infamous recluse ever doing a signing are basically zero.

Dean goes about his usual morning business while the other three get the signing area set up. By 8:20 the chairs are all out, the table is set up with a neat stack of books, and the sign is on its easel out in front of the whole thing. He sends Jo and Garth out to receive the day's deliveries, though with the event going on, the new books will have to wait until later to be unpacked, sorted, and shelved.

"You," he says to Charlie, pulling $20 out of the petty cash drawer, "go pick up a dozen donuts, and some OJ and coffee." He waves the money accusingly in front of her. "No more coffee for you, though, Energizer bunny."

She sticks out her tongue, but takes the money and heads out the door. Dean goes back to getting the cash register set up for the day. He's finishing up just as Garth and Jo come back inside.

"What now, boss?" Jo asks, hopping up onto the counter next to him. Garth starts playing with a little display of bookmarks.

"Well, our guest should be here any minute," he says, closing the register drawer. "He's an alpha, so when we open I'm gonna stay at the front of the store on scent duty to turn away any unmated, unsuppressed omegas. Even without anyone going into heat, we don't want to risk another alpha gettin' grumpy with him. I assume Charlie'll be hanging on the guy's every word, so you two get to flip a coin or whatever to decide who's on register and who helps Charlie with crowd control and stuff."

"You pick," Garth tells Jo cheerfully. "I'm good with whatever."

But before Jo can respond, the front door jingles again.

"That must be him now," Dean says, and comes out from behind the register.

As the three of them head around the corner towards the front door, they hear a gravelly "Hello?"

"Mr. Novak!" Dean begins cheerfully, but before he can go up to the guy, shake his hand, explain how they'll be doing things, he comes to a dead halt. Something is wrong here, there's someone he can't see, someone who smells _amazing_. Someone he _needs_. Dean's nostrils flare with it, and he frowns in confusion. He suddenly realizes that Novak has the same expression on his face.

"The… the store isn't open yet, is it?" Novak asks, head cocked to one side. "Don't tell me you have an unmated, unsuppressed omega _working_ today. My publicity kit mentions I'm an alpha, right?"

Dean shakes his head, but is more concerned with looking around to see where that smell is coming from. It's citrusy, but not like an orange. Like… grapefruit? Only way better than fucking _grapefruit_. 

"No way," he mutters distractedly, "Charlie's the only omega who works here, and she's on suppressants. 'N she's out getting donuts anyway. Did you bring a PA or publicist or someone with you?"

He finally looks directly at Novak and realizes they've drifted close to each other, even as they're both looking around the store, confused. Jo and Garth are watching them, shifting uncomfortably with puzzled looks on their faces.

"No, it's just me," Novak replies, and then looks back at Dean. And realization hits both of them at once. _This_ is where the smell is coming from. _This_ is the person they're looking for. Novak doesn't look nearly as perplexed as Dean feels; as a matter of fact, Novak is starting to look a little alpha-possessive, the same as Dean would feel if it weren't for the fact that the ripe-omega- _mine_ smell hitting him full-on in the face was coming from an _alpha_ and oh shit Novak doesn't know—

Dean puts his hands up as Novak takes a step toward him. "Dude, I'm a fuckin' alpha," he says under his breath, not wanting to let Jo and Garth know what's happening yet. Novak jerks back like he's been stung.

"You're—no, you can't be." Novak is blinking like he's just been snapped out of a trance, which Dean realizes isn't far from the truth. Suddenly they're both tense, caught between the need pulling them together and the knowledge that it's completely misplaced keeping them apart.

"Don't ask me, man," he murmurs, "I smell it, too. Why don't we, uh, go back in my office and talk about this, okay?"

[](https://40.media.tumblr.com/0c140af8b0f7006b4c09d17ca55f00c4/tumblr_nwuz7l4L521u7e6oqo2_1280.jpg)

Novak nods, his eyebrows knit as he seems to be trying to look right _through_ Dean to figure out how the smell could possibly be coming from him. Dean turns on his heel and begins to stride toward the back of the store, where his office is off the storage room, and hears Novak fall into step behind him.

"I need to talk to Mr. Novak for a minute in my office," he barks over his shoulder to Jo and Garth. He hears a soft "What the fuck?" from Jo, but is too busy staying focused on ignoring the scent of the alpha behind him to really notice.

Closing them into a small space together may have been the wrong approach, he belatedly realizes. But Novak already has him pressed up against the closed door, and his hands are already in Novak's hair, and then they're kissing and _holy fuck_ Dean has never tasted anything like this man's mouth in his life. He loses himself in it for a minute or two before some part of his brain comes back online and he pushes Novak back—only just enough to separate their mouths, not enough to free them from the embrace, because _like hell_ is he going to stop touching this man entirely.

"You're not really an alpha, are you?" Novak gasps, before shoving his nose into Dean's throat to sniff.

"Swear to god," Dean nearly moans, "We keep this up too much longer and I'll have the beginnings of a knot to prove it. I'm as confused as you are, man. You smell—you _taste_ —" Dean lets out a whine as _his mate_ takes a step back from him, although their hands are still on each other.

"That's not possible," Novak pants, "this isn't— _is_ that even possible? Jesus christ." He stumbles back from Dean and collapses into the chair at Dean's desk, head in his hands.

Dean aches with the lost contact, but his head feels marginally clearer for it. He slides down the door until he's sitting on the floor, looking up at _the alpha_ who is _his fucking mate_ as though that is a thing _that even happens_. He tries to take a few deep breaths to calm down, but given that the air in the tiny office is now thick with their commingled pheromones, it doesn't exactly help.

"Okay," he says, half to himself. "Okay. We just—shit. We gotta get through the next couple of hours, and then we can figure out what the fuck is going on here. I've got a store to run, you've got a signing to do. Neither of us can afford to fuck that up, right?"

"You run the store?" Novak asks through his hands.

"I _own_ the store," Dean corrects him. Novak huffs out a laugh.

"Perfect," he says, leaning back in the chair and running a hand through his hair. His hair comes out looking rumpled and sexy and Dean clenches his jaw and tries to tamp down on the things it does to him. "You know, I thought I could stop worrying about spontaneous scent bonds when I turned thirty."

"Right?" Dean snorts. "We're both too old for this, man."

"I spent the first decade or more after I presented _terrified_ that I'd be walking down the street one day and suddenly lose all control and be mated to a total stranger before I could come to my senses," Novak continues, eyes trained down at his thumb, which was scratching at the arm of the chair. "Though I have to admit, the fact that you're a gorgeous bookstore owner in Lawrence, Kansas does support the idea that it will always be someone you're completely compatible with. The alpha part, though, that's a bit of a blow to that theory."

"Well hey, looks like we are pretty compatible, 'cause I agree on all counts." Dean ticks them off on his fingers. "Spontaneous scent bonds, creepy. Gorgeous author, good. Alpha, bad. Except, shouldn't the fact that I'm in Lawrence be a strike against? Your press kit says you live in Illinois somewhere, so it's not like—"

Novak groans, shoving the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I closed on a house yesterday. I'm starting an MFA in Creative Writing at KU in the fall. Moving here in about a month."

Dean's mouth goes dry. _My mate is moving here to be with_ me, a piece of his brain yells, but he reminds himself that this _alpha_ is moving here for reasons _entirely unrelated to him._

"Okay," he tries again, "we can get this all sorted out later, uh, Mr No—"

"I think we're on a first-name basis by now, don't you? Castiel."

"Right. Sure. Dean. Winchester, obviously." He motions vaguely toward himself. He'd offer his hand for Castiel to shake, but he knows that they need to finish talking before they dare to touch each other again. "Anyhow, I don't know what the hell is going on here, Castiel, but we have _got_ to wait until after the signing to figure out what we want to do with it."

Castiel nods. "Yes. Agreed. What _can_ we even do with it, though? Would a blood bond take between two alphas, even if we wanted it to?"

"No fuckin' clue, man," Dean shakes his head, "I didn't know two alphas could scent-bond, but here we are. I mean, Charlie's a lesbian and she's starting to form a scentbond with her girlfriend Dorothy, but she told me once that gay omegas don't usually blood-bond 'cause neither of them has any drive to bite. So it'd have to be different for alphas, right?"

"I would very much like to bite you," Castiel growls, his eyes going to Dean's neck. And Dean knows it shouldn't affect him, if anything he should probably be disgusted by the idea of another alpha wanting to bite him, but instead the idea just gets him horribly turned on. An image of the two of them naked in his bed, wantonly trading bites, flits through his head before he can stop it.

"Whoa, tiger, let's rein that in before either of us gets any more riled up than we need to." Dean isn't sure which of them he's talking to more. He raises his hands up, but is careful not to make the movement look submissive so as not to prod at the part of Castiel's brain that's convinced he's an omega. Castiel shakes himself, muttering an apology as he scrubs his hands over his face.

"Here's what's gonna happen," Dean says, injecting his voice with confidence he doesn't feel. "I'm gonna head home." He ignores the whine that comes out of Castiel at the words. "No way can we get through this with both of us in the store. Can you even fucking imagine what would happen the moment a third alpha walked in? _Both_ of us trying to protect each other from them?" He snorts, and Castiel laughs, putting his head in one hand.

"You're right, we don't need this to be a bigger mess than it already is."

"Exactly. We'll talk after the signing, okay?" Dean pushes himself to his feet, but remains leaning against the door. If he were _smart_ , he'd open it and go. But he wants to touch Castiel just one more time. The idea that they might decide to let this go, that he's finally found not just someone to bond with but _his mate_ at age 34 and he might _let him go_ just because he's an alpha is burning a hole in his chest.

Castiel clearly feels the same way. He stands up from the chair, and they look at each other for only a few seconds before they each take two steps and come together again, kissing and breathing each other deeply. In that moment, a part of Dean deep down is _sure_ that they'll work this out, who cares if they're both alphas, there must be some way for this to work because he can't possibly let this man walk back out of his life as easily as he walked into it.

After a couple more minutes of kissing and groping, they pull apart again.

"Okay," Dean says breathlessly as they try to get straightened out and looking like they totally haven't been making out, "you go straight over to the signing table. I didn't help set up that area, so it'll smell the least like me, stay back there as much as possible. I'll tell Charlie to stick by you. She's a big fan, so she was gonna do that anyhow, but I'll have her keep her nose out for you. Like I said, she's a lesbian on suppressants—she's pretty much as unaffected by alphas as an omega can get. Jo and Garth are both betas, they're just gonna be confused. Charlie'll at least be able to smell it if something starts to piss you off or freak you out or anything and intervene, okay?"

Castiel nods. "How are you getting home? I don't think I could drive right now. Won't you be too distracted?" Dean recognizes the protectiveness in Castiel's tone and is surprised when it doesn't make him bristle. It's almost soothing.

"I live nearby. I walk to the store." Dean reaches out his hand to touch Castiel's. "So don't worry about me, okay?" 

Castiel gives him a small smile. It's actually kind of cool, Dean realizes, understanding what's going through Castiel's head and knowing how to respond to it because it's the same stuff he experiences. Maybe being with another alpha would have its perks. 

"Will you be back after the signing?" Castiel asks.

"Why don't you call me when the signing's over? Ask Charlie after and she can give you my number. Not til after, though, let's just avoid all temptation for the next two hours, okay? Then we can talk and figure out where to go from there." They've drifted back together, arms wound around each other, foreheads pressed together. He feels a surge of tenderness that seems different from the very lust-driven sensations he's experienced so far since meeting this man. "We'll figure this out, okay?"

"Of course," Castiel says back softly. He sighs. "I'm jealous—you get to go somewhere that doesn't smell at all like me and then you don't even have to spend the next two hours interacting with people who aren't me."

"If it's any consolation, I'm about two seconds from begging you to give me something that smells like you to take with me, because I'm just that much of a sad, desperate cliche." Dean smiles and manages not to kiss Castiel again when he smiles back. 

They disentangle themselves from each other and leave Dean's office, Castiel turning straight toward the signing table as they'd agreed while Dean makes his way back up to the registers and front door. It smells less like Castiel up there, but he immediately feels the pull telling him that he is in entirely the wrong place and putting _far too much space_ between himself and his mate. Charlie is just coming back in with the donuts, Jo's at the register and they're opening in ten minutes, with the signing starting at 9:30.

"I gotta go," he tells Jo. "I'll be out the rest of the day, you're in charge. If you guys can't handle the crowd, call in Kevin, okay? Garth! Get the Phero-Kleer, give the whole store a quick spray but especially the signing area, got it?"

Garth nods and heads toward the storage room to get the air freshener.

"What the fuck is going on?" Jo demanded. "Is this some weird alpha thing? If you two aren't getting along, you shouldn't shut him in the office with you, you could have killed each other!"

"It's fine," Dean tells her firmly, then snags Charlie's elbow before she can get very far with the donuts. He lowers his voice so that the betas can't overhear him. "Hey, kiddo, you are now Mr. Novak's official handler, got it? He might be kind of grouchy, disoriented…" Dean takes stock of how he, himself, feels now that he's moving away from his mate far too soon. "Maybe even a little nauseous? Keep an eye and nose on him, help him out however he needs it, okay? Can you manage that?"

"Uh, sure," she says, raising an eyebrow. "What's up?"

"I'll tell you about it later. Oh, and after the signing, if he asks for my phone number go ahead and give it to him, but _do not tell him where I live_ , got that?" He knows that if Castiel were to show up at his door, it would all be over with immediately, and he can't help but think they should have, like, _one_ rational conversation before they go gnawing on each other's necks.

Now Charlie is looking at him like he has two heads. "Oookay. Whatever you say. If he finds out where you live he's not gonna, like, come try and kill you, is he?"

"Definitely not, but _don't_." He points at her for emphasis and then heads outside.

As the fresh air hits him, he simultaneously feels relieved and pained that Castiel's scent is already fading from his nose.


	2. Chapter 2

Even seated at the table in the back of the store, Castiel can feel it the moment Dean has walked out the door. His scent is immediately lighter, but of course it's _his store_ so his scent is never truly gone. Castiel rubs the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, trying to get his thrumming body under control. _This_ is why he never wanted a spontaneous scent bond. His hormones are doing their damnedest to assert control not only over his logical mind, but his emotions as well.

It's just as well that Dean is an alpha, so that they were both shocked out of the initial haze enough to at the very least be reasonable and finish the signing. If Dean were an omega, they probably would have cancelled already and gone back to Dean's place to knot and bond by now—though in that case, at least people would be understanding. The fans would be a bit disappointed and his publicist mildly annoyed, but almost everyone melts at stories like this—the rare cases where total strangers catch each others' scent in public and know, in an instant, that they've found their mate. That they won't be two of the many people who date and fall in love and develop a scent bond slowly over time before finally making a blood bond to seal each other off from all other potential mates. No, they're the “lucky” ones who aren't even looking for it but out of the blue find the kind of bond that is nearly guaranteed to last a lifetime. 

If that were their story, much as Castiel would hate it, at least everyone would forgive them. They'd reschedule the signing for a few days later and have a romantic tale to tell the audience about why the date was changed at the last minute.

If Dean were an omega. Or, Castiel realizes, if _he_ were an omega. Somehow that option hadn't occurred to him.

But two alphas? People are probably more likely to see that as deviant than romantic. Hannah, his publicist, is probably going to have an aneurysm when she finds out about this anyhow; canceling the signing for it might actually have made her quit.

"Hey!" A perky but tentative voice pulls him out of his thoughts, opening his eyes. "I'm Charlie. I dunno what happened between you and Dean, but he told me to stay close and keep you happy. Donut?"

Castiel's stomach is rolling now that Dean is too far away, but he thinks eating is probably a better idea than not eating.

"Thank you," he says, reaching out and taking one with chocolate frosting.

"I know sometimes alphas just butt heads for no good reason except pheromones. Dean's a great guy, I swear. Hopefully now that his scent is gone you'll be good, but you let me know if something upsets you and I don't scent it fast enough, okay? You want some coffee or juice?" She holds up the two jugs in the hand that's not holding the donut box.

"Oh, some coffee would be wonderful. I've got a headache coming on. And don't worry, I'm not angry with Dean."

"Yeah," Charlie says, her brow knitting as her nostrils flare, "you don't smell angry. Anyhow, sorry, not my business. I'll be right back with some coffee!"

Castiel wonders exactly how he _does_ smell to an omega. His nose is fairly deadened to his own scent, of course, but he can catch a whiff of confusion if he tries, which isn't exactly a stretch. He looks around, then surreptitiously sniffs himself hard. There are definitely some nerves there, which everyone else could write off as related to the signing. The scent of arousal is fading already, thank _god_ , and wouldn't be as strong to anyone other than Dean anyhow. 

Other than that, there's a sort of contented note underneath the others that makes his heart race a little. The kind of scent that starts to develop with mates, with bonding. It certainly isn't strong, but that it's there at all after ten minutes of acquaintance and some light making out is sort of terrifying, but also sort of thrilling. He's only smelled it on himself once before, and that was during the very brief period of time after he and Balthazar had been dating long enough for them to start to develop a hint of a scent bond but before he'd realized it was happening and turned his commitmentphobic tail and run.

A minute later, the gangly guy from the front of the store comes back and starts spraying Phero-Kleer everywhere, and Castiel loses what little ability he had to scent himself. It does help clear away the last of Dean's scent, which leaves Castiel feeling simultaneously clearheaded and heartbroken. He doesn't have long to linger on that, though, before Charlie comes back with his coffee.

She takes a seat next to him and starts chattering about his books. She's cheerful and pleasant, and what's more, she asks him interesting questions. No cliched "Where do you get your ideas from?" here, it's all detailed inquiries about worldbuilding that allow him to make use of the extensive backstory notes that he knows will never make it into his books. She does hit on one piece of information that he can't give away because it spoils a plot point for the next book, and she squeals with delight when she learns this.

The conversation nearly manages to keep his mind off of Dean while the store opens. Nearly. Every time he hears the bell above the front door ring, he has to resist the urge to look up and see if his mate is returning. He reminds himself that if Dean comes back, he'll smell it. But Dean is unlikely to come back, because he was right—they need to get through this signing. And, he realizes, Dean probably has more riding on it than he does. He's done a dozen of these so far and has at least a dozen more to do before the tour is over ( _and I can move into my new house with my_ mate, a dopey, overly-eager part of his brain supplies), and missing or delaying one of them is unlikely to make a dent in his book sales. Dean, on the other hand, is trying to run a small business—a bookstore, no less, which is not a good business to be in unless your name is Amazon. A couple dozen disgruntled customers will make a much bigger dent in his bottom line than Castiel's.

Suddenly Castiel feels very motivated to make this signing go well. He tries to tell himself that it's simply because he likes supporting independent bookstores, but, well. No matter how much he wants to pretend otherwise, the truth is that he wants to support _Dean's_ bookstore because _his mate's_ livelihood is on the line and he's got to do whatever he can to protect _his mate's_ happiness.

He realizes suddenly that he's zoned out a bit, and Charlie is looking at him oddly.

"You're smelling a little alpha-y there." Her expression and scent shift to ones of worry. "My suppressants are still working, aren't they? Even if they aren't, no offense but I don't even swing that way so you definitely don't need to be getting all protective of me."

"No, sorry, sorry, it's not you." Castiel runs a hand over his face. Charlie is clearly on the strong type of suppressants, ones that would not only prevent her from going to into heat but also mask her unmated status; all he can smell on her is her emotional state. "I'm so sorry. I was thinking about someone else. Sorry, I'd better drink a lot of this coffee or I'm never going to stay focused."

"Ah. Yeah, all this travel for the book tour must be stressful if you've got a mate waiting for you at home." Charlie looks at him sympathetically.

"No, no. I don't have a mate, actually, it's just—it's complicated. Very… complicated," he finishes lamely. She nods in a way that communicates that she has no idea what he means, but isn't going to pry, then takes his cup back for a coffee refill. He wonders whether he already smells mated—how quickly does that happen in a spontaneous scent bond? In a normal one, it would be a slow change over the course of weeks or even months. Can pheromones change this quickly? And if so, how long will he smell mated if he and Dean decide not to see each other again? 

Luckily, Charlie returns with the coffee before he can let this train of thought get him too panicky. They talk a bit more, and she sheepishly shows him her backpack full of his books, which he signs with a laugh.

The signing goes as well as can be expected with Castiel as on edge as he is. He reads a chapter from the new book, takes a handful of questions, then the fans line up and he signs their copies. The smell of so many other people even manages to push Dean out of his mind for a while, although when he sits down to sign a pile of copies for the store to sell he feels another surge of protective instinct.

When it's over, he asks Jo where the restrooms are, and goes and locks himself in a stall. He knows that he has a decision to make—if he gets Dean's phone number, he's going to call him. There's just no way he could _not_. And that’s exactly why he never wanted a spontaneous scent bond, he reminds himself—because there is no good reason in the world for him to want to call this random stranger, but his hormones insist upon it. 

Well, okay, maybe not _no_ good reason. Dean is amazingly handsome by any standards, he owns an independent bookstore, and he seems to have a good head on his shoulders given the way he’s handled their situation so far. The truth is, if Dean were a beta Castiel would almost definitely be trying to get his number.

 _Which_ means that if he does talk to Dean, dragging this out might just be inviting a lot more hurt for both of them. He doesn't know much about Dean yet, but what little he's seen makes him think that he could easily like the man a lot. Who knows, maybe Castiel could even fall in love with him, if they stayed in contact long enough. But none of that changes the fact that they're both alphas, and might not be able to form a blood bond or even maintain a normal relationship, for all he knows.

It should be early enough to avoid the worst of the biological consequences of leaving a scent bond, but even if they're not physically together any communication will probably strengthen the bond. If they spend a couple of weeks talking, then call it off, it might be bad. And though not talking to Dean at all would be heartbreaking for entirely hormonal reasons, falling in love with him and then having to cut ties could be emotionally devastating.

And that's all assuming they get along but can't be together. What if staying in communication for any length of time just makes the hormonal urges stronger and stronger, until it doesn't even _matter_ if they like each other? Most people with a spontaneous scent bond know almost nothing about their mate before they blood bond—are they really as happy together as people claim, or do they just spend their lives on a constant hormone high, living with and even having children with someone they don't necessarily even like, let alone love, but not caring because being near the other person just _feels_ good? 

He knows, rationally, that if that were commonly the case he would hear more about it, that people close to such couples would be concerned. But Castiel has good reason not to trust his blood chemistry with major life decisions. He knows very well that hormones can occasionally lie.

Dean's store isn't too close to the University, and the English department is on the other end of campus anyhow. Castiel can easily avoid this part of town. He still might run into Dean elsewhere around Lawrence, and that would be incredibly painful for both of them, but that would be true whether they end things now or weeks from now.

Maybe spontaneous scent bonds really are all they’re storied to be. Maybe it's possible for two alphas to work. Maybe they could live happily ever after. Maybe he's throwing away the love of his life here.

But he manages to convince himself that it's a remote possibility, and this is the best thing for both of them. When he leaves the bathroom, he heads straight for the front door, calling out his thanks to the rest of the staff but not stopping lest Charlie try to give him Dean's number without his asking.

His head feels marginally clearer out in the fresh air, but when he gets into his rental car he still has to stop and pull himself together so he doesn't start crying. His hotel room is in Kansas City, where he has another signing that evening before his flight out in the morning. He can hole up there for a few hours and cry as much as he needs to, get it out of his system so he can put Dean Winchester behind him.

As he pulls away from the bookstore and heads toward the highway, he tries to convince himself that he actually can do that.


	3. Chapter 3

The walk back to his apartment helped to clear Dean's head. The fresh air was a big help; he hopes the Phero-Kleer did enough for Castiel. The movement, though, had also been good.

But now he's just been sitting around his apartment for three hours, and restless doesn't begin to cover it. He'd started out trying to watch some TV, but he couldn't get his mind off Castiel. He'd finally pulled up Google and did a few cursory searches for alpha/alpha mating, but was surprised to discover that almost everything he found on his first pass was _fanfiction_. Apparently some fans are very into the idea of alpha/alpha couples like Sherlock Holmes and John Watson from a BBC TV show, or Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes from the Marvel movies. Dean has to admit that that second one doesn't sound like such a bad idea, but he's resisted the urge to read any of the fanfiction on principle.

Unfortunately, he hadn't really managed to find any solid information. He's sure that if he knew where to look, it'd be out there, but he really doesn't know what to do other than general searches. He figures Charlie will know more, which websites to look at.

Now it's nearly noon, and he hasn't heard back from Castiel yet. The signing should be long over with. Castiel hadn't promised to call him the very moment it was over, of course. He might just be collecting his thoughts first. Or doing his own internet searches, or maybe he had another commitment afterward. It could be anything, but none of that makes Dean feel any less antsy. He has no idea if there's any chance at all that this thing will work out between them, or if he even wants it to; all he does know is that he's _never_ longed to hear another person's voice like this, never in his life.

He eats a sandwich, then finally gives in and calls the store. He's relieved when Charlie is the one that answers.

"Winchester Used Books, Charlie speaking. How may I help you?"

"Hey, it's me. How'd the signing go?"

"Great! I got to talk to Mr. Novak for a while beforehand, he's really cool. I think if you two weren't all pheromone-y at each other you'd really like him." Dean is very glad that Charlie can't see his huge smile at this. "But yeah, good audience, maybe twenty people who seemed to be here just for him and another few who I think just happened to be in the store but sat down and listened anyhow. Everyone seemed to leave happy. I think it was a big success, boss!"

“Awesome. So, um… Did you give him my number?" He tries to sound casual. Like, y'know, the rest of his life isn't hanging in the balance here.

"No, he didn't ask about it. Actually, once he was done signing he disappeared into the bathroom for like ten minutes and then practically ran out of the store. I dunno what was up with that, but I didn't even really get a chance to say goodbye." He could practically hear her shrug. "I guess he's kind of an odd duck. Cool, but an odd duck. As most cool people are."

Dean swallowed down the knot of emotion in his throat and willed himself not to freak out until he was off the phone.

"Okay. Um, well. Okay. I'm, uh… I'm still gonna take the rest of the day off. Listen, Charlie, I need you to get the Phero-Kleer back out and douse the place, okay? Especially anywhere Novak touched—the chair he sat in, the table he was at. Hell, the bathroom he went in. Oh, and my office, definitely. He sat in my office chair, get that especially well." He was proud that his voice was barely shaking at all. "When I come in tomorrow morning, there's gotta be absolutely no trace of him left, okay? You're the only one who can smell him, so I'm counting on you."

"Man, you two must have really clashed. Jo and Garth were saying you were in each others' faces as soon as he came in the door. But neither of you smelled pissed off or anything by the time I got there. I guess you're just very _mature_ alphas who can handle yourselves like civilized human beings, right?" There's a smile in her voice, and he know's she's teasing, but he still feels like crying.

"Yeah. Something like that. Anyhow, see you tomorrow." Dean hangs up before Charlie can respond.

Dean isn't going to cry.

No, nope, that's a lie. He's totally going to cry, and he's going to let himself, because _fuck_. He's been dumped before, but not… nothing like this. Castiel is _his mate_. He's been rejected by his mate, by the man he has a spontaneous scent bond with, something 99% of people will never even be lucky enough to experience for the ten minutes he had it. He didn't even _want_ one before today, but now suddenly it feels like he's had the most precious gift he's ever been given snatched away.

He knows that Castiel had good reasons. Neither of them was thrilled about the basic concept of a spontaneous scent bond to begin with, even without the alpha twist. Logically, there's a very good chance that this would end badly, and they're probably saving themselves even more heartbreak by not letting it go any further than it already has. He'd left the ball in Castiel's court, left the decision whether to call Dean in his hands, and he'd made a judgment call. In the long run, it's better this way.

Knowing that doesn't help at all, though, not even a little. Dean shuts himself in his room, buries his face in a pillow, and sobs like he hasn't in a long time.

He eventually cries himself to sleep.

He wakes up sometime in the mid-afternoon, judging by the light coming through the window. He can't even bring himself to check the time, even though all he'd have to do is sit up to see the clock. He wonders how early would be too early to start drinking, because he is _totally_ getting plastered tonight. He vaguely thinks about heading to a bar to pick up someone and fuck away his heartbreak, but he knows he couldn't possibly. Not tonight, at least. The thought of touching anyone other than Castiel makes his stomach churn. Maybe in a week or two, when the emotional rawness has faded and the hormones have turned it down a notch, that'll be an option. Tonight, he can't even face being in public—he's just going to sit at home and drink whatever he's got on hand.

The shit of it is, for once in his fucking life he feels like talking about his feelings—maybe not for long, but at least moaning to someone about it for like ten minutes so that _somebody_ knows what he's going through—but who is he going to talk to? It doesn't even make sense, anyone he talks to is just going to try to convince him that he couldn't _possibly_ have had a _real_ scent bond with another alpha. But he fucking knows what he felt, and that Castiel felt it, too. That's not even in question, and he doesn't feel like justifying it to anyone.

He finally gets out of bed to find that it's a little after three. He checks his fridge and his liquor cabinet, and discovers that he's down to one beer and not nearly enough whiskey. He starts to head out to get alcohol (and maybe a pie), but he stops at the door, his heart beating fast.

What if Castiel is out there somewhere? Wandering around Lawrence? What if Dean smells him again? God, he can't possibly handle that.

He stands at the door like that, panicking, for nearly ten minutes before it hits him. Castiel is on a book tour, right? So he's probably only still in town if he doesn't have to be on a plane soon for his next signing. Dean sits down at his computer, takes a deep breath, and navigates to Castiel's website.

Seeing his photo hurts. A lot. Dean feels new tears coming, and he just lets them fall as he clicks on the page with the tour dates.

"Oh, thank _God_ ," he moans when he sees that Castiel has to be in Kansas City for another signing by six. Sure, it's only a half hour away, he _could_ still be in town for a couple more hours yet. But Dean knows that, even though this was Castiel's choice, it has to be hitting him nearly as hard. Even if he had no interest in Dean whatsoever, he can't escape the biology of the situation. He wouldn't want to stay in Lawrence if he could be in Kansas City by now.

Dean quickly closes the webpage and heads out the front door.

Once again, the fresh air does him good. He realizes that he's probably filled his apartment up with despairing, heartbroken pheromones. They must be rolling off him in waves; even if he doesn't look like he's been crying (he probably totally does), every alpha and omega in a half-block radius must know how he feels right now. He makes a mental note to open up all the windows when he gets back to air the place out a little—hanging around in all that can't be helping him any.

As he walks, he worries. Castiel is still moving here in a month. Still starting a program at KU. Dean is sure he won't be stupid enough to come anywhere near the store, but Lawrence isn't a huge town. They're going to run into each other eventually. He wishes he knew where the house Castiel bought is, so he could avoid that part of town himself. Dean sighs and decides he just has to hope it doesn't happen until he's in a place where he can smell the other alpha and not burst into very embarrassing tears in public.

He stops by his favorite bakery for a pecan pie, the corner store for some ice cream, and then the liquor store on the next block for a fresh bottle of Jack.

"Bring on the numbness," he mutters to himself as he rounds the corner to his apartment.

After he gets all the windows open and sets a fan up in one, he checks his phone. Just in case he missed something. Yes, he's pathetic, but there was a little piece of him hoping that maybe Charlie had texted to say "Oh, by the way, it turns out Jo gave him your number" or something like that.

Nope. No calls, no texts. Dean turns the phone off. If it rings, he doesn't want to answer while being a depressed drunk. And he sure as hell doesn't want to risk drunk-dialing Sam or someone and spilling his guts. Maybe someday he'll tell someone about this. When he's a fifty-year-old bachelor and people ask why he's never found a nice omega to settle down with, he'll be able to say with only a hint of sadness, _Oh, I had a mate once. I had a spontaneous scent bond, believe it or not. But he left me before we even had a chance to get something started._ Hey, maybe someday it'll even make a good sob story to tell naive omegas in bars.

Not today. Today he wants to say not a word to anyone. He wants to eat pie, drink, and watch as much of the second season of Dr Sexy as he can before he passes out.

And that's what he does.

—

Luckily, Dean remembered to bring a liter bottle of water to the couch with him along with the whiskey bottle, and remembered to drink from it regularly. Otherwise, he would be feeling even shittier than he does right now as his alarm clock plays what should be one of his favorite songs, but right now is just horrible, horrible noise.

He manages to shuffle his way through a shower, getting dressed, and some breakfast. He really isn't as hung over as he could be. Once he's cleaned up he actually feels mostly human, as long as he doesn't think about _why_ he was getting drunk the night before. Thanks to the ibuprofen he took before his shower, his headache is even on its way out by the time he has to leave for work.

When he gets to the store, he is incredibly relieved to find that Charlie really did her job with the Phero-Kleer. He walks around sniffing deeply, but doesn't pick up any of Castiel's scent at all. He knows he's looking better than he feels when Jo comes in and just raises an eyebrow at him instead of giving him real hell like she would if he had come in massively hung over. Garth, happy as ever, doesn't seem to notice anything is off. But Dean knows he can't hide from Charlie.

As soon as she comes in, she stops and scents the air. Dean is shelving some books, and he stops and closes his eyes, waiting for her. After just a few seconds, she rushes over to him.

"Holy shit, what happened?" she hisses, looking and smelling as genuinely worried as he's ever seen her. "What did you do last night? You're a little hungover, but Jesus—" she inhales deeply—"did someone die? Are you okay to be here?"

"Nobody died. It's fine. I mean, yeah, obviously I didn't have a great night last night and today isn't lookin' too good either, but I swear it's not as serious as it smells. Gimme a couple days. I'll survive."

She throws her arms around him and he lets her, hugging her back. Because damn, did he need a hug.

"So you're not gonna tell me what happened?" she murmurs, then pulls back to look at him.

"Not right now. I don't—I can't really talk about it yet, Charlie. Look, when I stop smelling like that, then ask me again and I'll tell you what all the fuss was about, okay?" He gives her a smile, and while he knows it's not entirely convincing he also knows that it's at least a little sincere. Because Charlie is probably his only friend he would even consider telling about this, and only because she's queer and might not question it the way everyone else would.

"Fair enough," she says, nodding, and goes to put her bag down in the back room.

Dean sprays some more Phero-Kleer around before they open, because he doesn't want his depressed scent getting the customers down and affecting sales. He snorts and thinks that they're going to have to start buying the industrial-sized bottles. He sequesters himself in his office to keep the smell contained, which is fine because he has paperwork to deal with anyhow. He keeps the door open because he's learned his lesson about staying cooped up with sad pheromones, and every time Charlie walks by she glances worriedly his way.

The store has been open for a half an hour when the phone rings. It's fairly empty, so he can hear Charlie's voice even from the back.

"Good morning, Winchester Used Books, Charlie speaking. How may I help you? … Yes he is, who should I say is calling? … Oh. Um, let me check if Mr. Winchester is available. Can you hold?"

Dean's curiosity is piqued, since Charlie knows full well he's available. Her tone had changed when she heard the identity of the caller. He stands up and wanders out of his office, meeting her in the stock room. She looks confused and nearly as worried as she had that morning, wringing her hands.

"Uh, so… Castiel Novak is on line one for you?" Dean's eyes widen, and she misinterprets his shock. "I can tell him you're busy, Dean, it's no big deal, you clearly don't need the stress today—"

"No!" he blurts out a little louder than he meant to. "It's fine. I'll take it in my office."

He realizes that he must have suddenly given off a major wave of relieved-happy smell when Charlie looks at him like he has two heads.

"Dean, I'm sorry, but what the hell is going on? My nose is getting whiplash here. I thought you couldn't stand to even be near this guy, but now he calls and you smell like you're about to jump into a pile of puppies?" She blinks at him, bewildered.

"I know. Look, I will tell you all about it at lunch, okay? I swear, no matter how I come out of this phone call. I'll explain everything." He gives her his best apologetic look as he backs into his office. She throws up her hands and heads back into the store.

Even though Dean's first instinct is to stare at the phone for a minute and get himself together before he picks up, he doesn't let himself. He's too likely to either start crying or freak out too much to pick it up at all, so as soon as he's back at his desk with the door closed he grabs the receiver and hits the button for the line that's on hold.

"Hello?" he says as neutrally as he can, having absolutely no idea what is waiting for him.

"Dean?" Castiel's voice is quiet, but even in one word he sounds as broken as Dean feels.

"Yeah. Hi." Dean has no clue what to say or how to feel until Castiel says something with some  substance, gives him _some_ kind of foothold in the conversation.

Castiel is quiet for ten seconds, twenty. Then Dean hears him draw in a shaky breath.

"Dean, I owe you an apology." Castiel speaks quickly, and sounds like he's working very hard to keep his voice under control. "Yesterday, I managed to convince myself that cutting off contact immediately was the best course of action for both of us, that I was saving us more pain in the future at the price of a small amount of pain right now. Even if that were true, it was unfair of me to make that decision unilaterally; at the very least I should have called you and explained myself. I—I was wrong. I mean, both in my actions and in my thinking. I don't—I _want_ to keep talking to you, I want to keep—exploring this, at least for now. But I understand if you don't, if you didn't yesterday or if you don't now because I fucked up, but—"

"Jesus, Cas, let a guy get a word in edgewise," Dean laughs, but his voice is wrecked. He can barely even process the waves of relief and happiness and _need_ washing over him. "I understand. Okay? I completely understand why this is probably still a really bad idea and why you wouldn't want to drag out the inevitable. I mean, I left it up to you, and I knew you might make that call. I'm not mad or anything, I'm just— _fuck_ , I'm so glad you called. I officially _do not care_ at the moment how bad of an idea it is. Maybe later I'll decide I need to care again, but right now—God, right now I'm just so fucking happy to hear your voice."

"I don't care right now, either, honestly." Dean can hear Cas's relief, his smile. "I couldn't sleep last night, between the hormones and the regular guilt over how I treated you. You deserved better, Dean. You _should_ be angry with me."

"Well, I'm _not_ , okay? Yeah, you could've at least told me what was up, but you know that and you've apologized and it's all good, okay? I slept like a baby, by the way, but I had half a bottle of Jack to thank for that." Dean snorts. "You should probably know that I have some, uh, unhealthy coping mechanisms."

"Do you drink a lot?" Castiel sounds more curious than judgmental.

"No, no, nothing like that. I mean, normally I just have a few beers on the weekend or whatever. But, y'know, when shit like that happens… I kinda tend to get drunk first, deal with shit later." Dean's not even sure why he's telling Cas this. He just feels like Cas deserves to know his bad sides, even now when they're just starting to feel this thing out. It startles him as he realizes just _how strong_ a drive he has to be honest with Cas, even if it means he might be rejected. He's not sure he could lie to the guy. Dean knows that the biology of spontaneous scent bonds isn't well-understood, but he's getting an idea that however it works, it's _fucking weird_.

“Well, apparently I deal with it by running away completely, so maybe we’re even.”

Dean snorts. “Man, where are you? It’s noisy.”

“Oh, sorry. I’m at KCI. My flight to Boston is boarding soon. I’m sure you need to get back to work, too, so I suppose we should discuss all this later.”

“Okay, lemme give you my cell number for real this time—“

“No, Dean,” Castiel interrupts, and for just a second Dean’s heart freezes. “Let me give you my number. You left the ball in my court yesterday and I dropped it. It’s only fair that this time you have the advantage.”

“If you want, but I really can give you my number too, if you want,” Dean says, then writes down the number Cas gives him.

“I’m giving a talk and signing at MIT at 6pm, hopefully I’ll be back to my hotel by eight, eight-thirty at the latest and I can talk anytime after that.”

“Sounds great. I’ll call you after work. Have a good flight, Cas.”

“Take care, Dean.”

Dean hangs up the phone and has to just sit there for a minute, grinning at the phone number on the paper in front of him. Even giggling a little. He’s never felt this kind of relief in his _life_. Who knows what will happen over the next couple of weeks—heck, the next couple of _days_ , they could talk tonight and decide to call the whole thing off—but for the moment, he’s going to let himself bask in happy hormones for a bit.

He finally opens the door to his office back up so he can get back to his paperwork. He can hear business starting to pick up out in the store, which adds to his good mood.

It’s not until an hour later that Charlie comes back to find something in the stock room and stops dead in front of his open door.

“Holy shit, Dean, did Novak offer you an unopened original '79 Millennium Falcon model to make up for chasing you out of your own store yesterday? And, like, a collection of vintage Playalphas?”

Dean grins. She has no idea how much better than any of that this is.

“I told you I’d explain everything at lunch, Charlie. You and me’ll take first lunch break at noon, ok? I’m buying.”

“Far be it from me to turn down free food and hot gossip,” she says with a shrug, and wanders off to find the book she’d been searching for.

As noon draws closer, Dean’s giddiness finally starts to wear off as he thinks about actually telling her what’s going on. Talking to someone about it means starting to face the complexity of the situation. The many unknowns standing between he and Cas and any chance they have at future happiness. He’s still in a great mood when he grabs her and they head out the front door of the shop; he’s honestly a little excited to tell her about it, but it’s certainly dampened a bit by reality.

They slide into a booth at the diner and place their usual orders—bacon cheeseburger for him, California wrap for her. As soon as the waitress leaves, Charlie’s chin is in her hands, looking at him expectantly.

“We’ve got quite the mystery here, haven’t we?” There’s a mischievous glint in her eye. “An author—not just any author, but _Castiel Novak_ —stops by, and you two have an immediate pheromone clash. Bad enough that you have to call out for the rest of the freaking day. You come in the next day smelling like your mate just left you, and won’t even tell me what actually happened. But then one phone call from the same guy who ran you out of the store sends you into happy alpha overdrive! Did I miss anything? Spill, Winchester!”

He can’t help smirking at her. “Sounds like you already solved the mystery yourself, Encyclopedia.”

“What? That doesn’t even make any sense. I didn’t solve anything, I just went through a list of things that happened. A list that totally doesn't add up.”

Dean sighs. “What did you _just say_ I smelled like this morning?”

“Like your mate just left you, but you don’t _have_ a mate, Dean! Unless there’s something you haven’t—“ she stops, blinking at him in confusion. He can see the pieces trying to come together in her head, but they don’t quite fit. Which makes perfect sense, because they freaking _don’t_. He suddenly feels incredibly shy about actually saying this to someone. He’s never been big on talking about feelings and this is, like, the _mother_ of feelings talks.

He can feel himself blush as he looks down at the fork he’s twirling in his hand. “We weren’t—it wasn’t a pheromone clash. Yes, we’re both alphas, and don’t expect me to be able to explain it any better than you can, but… it was a spontaneous scent bond. _Cas_ is my mate, Charlie.”

Charlie blinks at him for a second, and then always-expressive face does the most ridiculous dance as she flits back and forth between excited and confused as hell. Dean knows the feeling.

"Castiel Novak?" she finally sputters, careful to keep her voice down. "Castiel freaking Novak is your—seriously?"

Then she pauses, and he can see her going through the events of the past day and a half in her head.

"Oh god," she says, fixing him with a look of horrified pity that he really doesn't need. Not anymore, at least. "And he just… left. Poof. After his thing. And didn't get your number from any of us. He freaked out because you're both alphas and just fucking _left you_." She starts to look downright pissed.

"Look, Charlie, it's _fine_ , okay?" Dean reaches out to put his hand on hers as he soothes her. "I was pretty messed up yesterday, but even then I couldn't blame the guy. I mean, I've never met two mated alphas before, not _once_. It's fucked up enough, the way you're treated for dating other omegas, how would people even _react_ to two alphas? I didn't even know it was possible! I mean, in real life. From what I can tell plenty of people write about it online."

Charlie's expression fades from angry to unimpressed. "Of course it's _possible_ , don't be ridiculous. I mean, obviously it's super-rare, because most alphas can't deal with each other long enough to even become friends, let alone fall in love. I've known alpha couples who met online, and thought everything was perfect, but as soon as they met they couldn't stand to be around each other. But a spontaneous scent bond pretty much throws all that out the window, right?"

"Sure, okay, _theoretically_ it's possible, but I mean it doesn't actually _happen_ , does it?"

"Obviously, it does," Charlie says, starting to sound annoyed. "I've met an alpha couple before, actually. Spontaneous scent bond, just like you guys. It's just super-rare, but not because it _can't_ happen. There's nothing preventing it, physiologically, it's just that the population it _could_ happen to is pretty tiny. I mean, think about it, Dean—alphas are ten percent of the population. Only like three or four percent of those will have a spontaneous scent bond with _anybody_. So you're already down to, what, like, less than half a percent of the population?" 

She pulls out a pen and starts writing actual numbers down on her napkin, and Dean sighs. He knows better than to interfere here. "And then there's the fact that SSBs pretty much always fall along a person's sexual preferences, because that's like part of why the two are compatible, so only like ten percent of those people will be bigendered or homogendered—I know it's awful, but I'm just gonna assume two male alphas because I don't even want to get into the calculations if we figure in the tiny number of female alphas and you two are males, so. Anyhow. We're down to .04% of the population that it even _could_ happen to. That's… 120,000 people in the whole United States, Dean. That sounds like a lot, but it's really not, especially once you take out kids. I think like 20% of the population is too young to have presented, so… 96,000. Plus you'd need to already be attracted to alphas as well as males, so figure in the number of alphas who are trisexual. Or homosexual, I guess, but obviously _that's_ even rarer. I've literally never met an exclusively homosexual alpha, and you know how active I am in queer spaces. So anyhow, tri alphas, that's always been hard to get a figure on since they tend to stay closeted more than any other group. But let's stop there. Even if every single bi- or homogendered alpha is also tri, we've got 96,000 people in the whole country who _might_ form a spontaneous scent bond with another alpha. Wait, what was my point again?"

Their food comes, making Charlie pause long enough that Dean thinks it might be safe to slip a word in edgewise.

"I dunno, I lost you somewhere around taking out the kids."

"Oh, right! My _point_ is that with only 96,000 people in the entire United States who could _possibly_ form an alpha/alpha spontaneous scent bond, it doesn't have to be any less likely physically to be super rare. Omega/omega SSBs are pretty damn rare, too, probably about the same—but we can actually, like, date and get to know each other and develop normal scent bonds and stuff, so it's a lot less noticeable. I've only met a couple omega couples who met with an SSB."

Dean sighs. "Dude, you're giving me a headache. I surrender, okay? I am not a freak of nature. _But_ , you gotta admit that people would _treat_ us like freaks of nature. I mean, if I didn't know this was possible, and I'm pan-everything, like, I've slept with every combination at this point, then how many straight people think it's possible? I know what you're thinking, that turning tail like that must mean Cas is closeted or queerphobic or something, but being scared of what would happen to us isn't the same as thinking it's wrong or gross or whatever."

"I know," Charlie says, her face melting into mournful sympathy as she puts a hand on Dean's. " _Trust me_ I know. I mean, it's the same for everyone who comes out, right? We've come a long way but this is Kansas and trust me, I've had my fair share of inappropriate comments when I'm out on a date. And you're right, being part of an even tinier minority might make it worse. I just—" she sighs, rolling her eyes and twirling a french fry, "I do so much stuff to try to change that, I can't help that my gut reaction is to be a _little_ annoyed when someone wants to take the easy way out. And especially when the easy way out means fucking over my best friend!"

"I know, I know, you're a protective little omega. I wouldn't fuck with you, that's for sure." He reaches over and tousles her hair, and she swats his hand away good-naturedly. " _But_ he called today and apologized and said he wants to at least stay in touch and try and decide if this is something we want. So you can call Boba Fett back and cancel the hit on him. He's moving to Lawrence in a month, I guess we gotta figure shit out by then." Dean frowns. "Also, he said something yesterday, about being afraid of a spontaneous scent bond when he was younger. I mean, it's not exactly something I've ever hoped for either, right? Run into some stranger, suddenly you're gonna bond for life just because some hormone alarm went off in your head? I don't know how people think it's romantic, it always seemed fucking creepy to me. So maybe that was part of why he ran, too. Maybe he woulda run at first even if one of us was an omega."

Charlie snorts, then narrows her eyes, smirking. "I doubt that. Because yesterday, I hear you two disappeared into your office like the second he stepped through the door. Jo thought it was to have some alpha fight, but you were totally making out, weren't you? If you weren't both alphas I bet you woulda knotted right there. Oh dear god, I am so glad I didn't have to come back to the store to the sound of you two going at it on your desk."

Dean throws a french fry at her, which she catches and eats. But he doesn't dispute it. He'd like to think they would at least have made it back to his place, but that wouldn't be a guarantee. As much as spontaneous scent bonds have creeped him out in the past, he was and still is shocked by how _absolutely right_ it felt. Not creepy at all. Just this sudden knowledge that this was the person he should spend the rest of his life with, starting _immediately_. Which, now that he reflects on it, is… yeah, kinda creepy. But in the moment, he's not sure he could have been that reasonable if it weren't for the shock of Cas being an alpha.

"So everything's cool between you now, but he's traveling, I take it? And you said he's moving to Lawrence? Seriously? He ran away but now he wants to move here?"

"Nah, that's not about me. He's starting an MFA at KU." He runs a hand over his face, sighs. Man, there is so much about this situation that he needs to process, and spilling it all to Charlie is probably his best bet. "Look, I get it when, like, a friend introduces two people because he already thinks they'll like each other and boom, spontaneous scent bond. That's not a shock. But I wasn't even sure I _believed_ in total strangers having an SSB, I mean, that's such a fucking huge coincidence, right? That you just _happen_ to run into some random person who's so compatible with you that your _pheromones_ have lined up? But this is like… next-level weird coincidence shit. I mean, okay, he's a writer, I own a bookstore, sure, maybe we'll get along. Maybe he's even _the one_ who's perfectly compatible with me. But what are the odds of that _one person_ not only showing up at my store, but already planning to move to my town even though he lives in freaking _Illinois_ right now?"

Charlie shrugs. "Weird shit happens. Today the weird shit happens to be happening to you. I mean, I agree, that is _really weird_ , but is it honestly weirder than the idea that not only did George Lucas think Episodes 1-3 were a good idea, but a bunch of producers and Fox execs and stuff read his screenplays and agreed?"

"Fine, fine. Anyhow, on the one hand, if he _weren't_ moving here I dunno how we'd make anything work. I guess we woulda just both given up yesterday. But since he _is_ , if we decide not to go through with this it's gonna be a mess. We'll have to, like, divide up the town and stay out of each other's territory so we never run into each other." He sighs and pops the last bite of his burger in his mouth. "How long do you think it takes for a spontaneous scent bond to fade?"

Charlie's eyes widen, then her brow furrows. "Honestly, I have no idea. I don't think I've ever met someone who experienced one and then didn't stay with that person. Or, I mean, who knows, not like you'd go telling everyone you meet about that. I mean, people break up after scent bonding, but the SSB is based on, like, crazy levels of compatibility, beyond most normal scent bonds. It's not just the bonding hormones, it's that _who you are_ is causing you to make pheromones that would just start the whole process over again if you met, even after the bonding hormones are gone. I assume your pheromones would stay compatible until you… aren't compatible anymore, right? That could take a while. It's not like people's personalities just randomly change overnight. Maybe if your life goals changed, but you've both got pretty solid careers, that's not too likely. You'd probably just have to wait a few years until you grow apart. I mean, obviously if one of you managed to scent bond with someone else it would kick the first bond, unless one of you _also_ happens to be poly. But you kinda smell bonded already, so I don't think you're going to have much luck pulling omegas for a while. I guess your best bet would be for one of you to scent bond with a beta."

By this point, Dean's head is in his hand. "In case you haven't noticed, Charlie, Cas and I have both made it to our mid-thirties without managing to form a solid scent bond with _anyone_ , omega or beta. If he's here for two years for his degree, I think I'll have better luck waiting for him to move than finding a beta I can bond with."

" _Or_ ," Charlie says, looking at him like he has two heads, "you could bond with your _mate_. Why are we even talking about what you'll need to do if you two break up?"

"We can't break up, we're not together!"

Charlie inhales deeply. "Yeah, sorry bud, your body isn't buying it."

"Damn it!" Dean smacks the table. "See? This is why this whole spontaneous thing creeps me out. I don't even know this guy, and now everywhere I go people will think I'm taken. I'm gonna get random strangers asking about my mate, just making stupid fucking small talk, and what am I supposed to say? Why does my _body_ get to make this fucking decision for me?"

By this time, they've finished their meal, and Dean pays the check. He doesn't even know how he feels at this point. He's pissed off at the whole pheromones-controlling-his-life thing, he's still kind of scared to deal with the shit they'd get as an alpha couple, he's worried about what happens if they don't get together… but underneath it all, he still has this stupid layer of _happiness_ and _contentment_ and _love_. And that feels good, but he's getting more and more wary of trusting it. It's not there because he and Cas know each other and love each other for who they are. It's just there because of uncontrollable chemicals. 

But it's still kinda nice.


	4. Chapter 4

As Castiel boards his plane, all he can feel is the intense _relief_ at the fact that Dean doesn't hate him for what he's done. That Dean had taken him back—no, no. That's not right, Dean didn't take him _back_ , because they aren't in a relationship and they hadn't broken up. Damn it. Castiel is relieved that Dean was willing to reopen the lines of communication, that Dean is not going to shut him out as he had tried to do to Dean.

As soon as he's settled in, though, all sorts of other thoughts and feelings start to creep in. Part of him feels like he shouldn't have called, like he's giving in to a biological urge that will wind up taking over his life if he's not careful. He reminds himself that they haven't decided anything yet, and that even if they decide not to pursue a relationship it's better that they have some way of contacting each other, at the very least so that they can work out how to avoid each other in Lawrence. It made perfect sense for him to call Dean, from any perspective.

But the reminder doesn't erase what he experienced last night. He'd known that a spontaneous scent bond has immediate hormonal effects, that it can be as strong as a full blood bond and even more physically and emotionally potent because of the suddenness of the changes. Knowing that in an academic sense did nothing to prepare him for his body's reaction to being deprived of the mate it was convinced it had just found.

Yesterday, he'd managed to stay convinced that he was making the right move the entire way to Kansas City. Every twinge of heartache or suppressed sob was a fresh reminder that if this was how bad it was cutting it off this early, things could only go downhill if he stayed in contact with Dean.

But then he'd gotten to his hotel. He'd thought that spending a few hours purging it all from his system would be exactly what he needed, that by the time he got ready for the signing he'd be well on his way to feeling better.

That wasn't what happened.

At first, the tears had been a catharsis. But the longer he cried, the more it hurt. The more the enormity of what he'd just done sunk itself down into his bones—he'd _abandoned his mate_. His body didn't know that his mate was another alpha, it thought he was a terrible, terrible person for abandoning his omega (very possibly, as far as it was concerned, his _pregnant_ omega). It was going to do whatever it could to punish him, to make him go back. His stomach cramped, his head ached. 

And the worst part was, he sort of knew that he deserved it. It didn't matter that Dean was an alpha, and it didn't matter that they might or might not have ever decided to act on the bond. He'd made the decision for Dean, and hadn't even had the decency to leave him a note. It wasn't about leaving Dean defenseless or pregnant or caring for children alone—he had run out on Dean, after giving no indication that he was even considering doing so, and he knew that Dean had to be hurt by that. That Dean's body would think it had been rejected by its mate. Well, that _was_ , actually, exactly what had happened, even if they hadn't formed a blood bond. And hell, hormones and pheromones aside, Dean had to feel as hurt as anyone who's been stood up. Dean, who seemed like a perfectly nice person, who had handled the whole situation with a much more level head than Castiel could have managed on his own and had done what was necessary to get them both through the signing and very definitely didn't deserve _this_.

In short, Castiel had been a cowardly asshole, and now he was paying for it.

He'd managed to get himself under control in time to shower and look presentable for his signing.  The worst of the physical symptoms were abating by then, luckily. But the emotional effects remained in full swing, and he was definitely distracted at the signing. He managed to muddle through, but his mind drifted and he often had to ask people to repeat themselves.

As the night wore on, though, he knew that the pheromones were only responsible for part of his deep sense of guilt and regret. Even if he ignored the irrational longing, or the misplaced self-loathing at not protecting his nonexistent omega, he still couldn't get Dean out of his mind. All Dean had wanted was a phone call. One stupid phone call to talk through what had happened, what was still happening, and Castiel had been too selfish to give him even that.

After tossing and turning for two hours, he had finally admitted that the only way he would get any peace anytime soon was to at least try to contact Dean the next morning. It didn't do much to quell the hormonal side of his anguish, but it at least gave him enough peace of mind that he could work on ignoring that more fully.

Now, on the plane, he starts to question it all again. Was the phone call just his body tricking him into giving it what it wanted? Was he right the first time, is he just prolonging the inevitable? Would it be better to get it all out of their systems as quickly as possible?

What if he _does_ develop feelings for Dean? Legitimate ones, ones based on the content of Dean's character instead of the content of his pituitary gland? What if he does, but Dean doesn't reciprocate?

He groans and rubs his temple. _Now_ he is being ridiculous. He's acting like he's sixteen and thinking about asking an omega to prom. Right at the moment, things are as under control as they possibly can be. He can't do anything else until this evening, and that's _assuming_ Dean really isn't pissed and calls him. Until then, the whole thing is just a source of stress. He pulls out the novel he brought to read on the plane and gets as lost as he can in that.

—

He's feeling noticeably more settled as he prepares for that evening's event. He still has some random, irrational flashes of emotion, but at least now they're mostly happiness or content, although there is still some part of him that's convinced that even though he hasn't _abandoned_ Dean, it is still a major problem that he is now half a continent away from him.

As the signing draws to a close, though, he starts to get nervous. He realizes how Dean must have felt, waiting for him to call. How he must have felt when he realized the call wasn't coming—how Castiel will feel if Dean decides to give him a taste of his own medicine.

By the time he gets back to his hotel room, he thinks if Dean doesn't call he might take a page out of Dean's own playbook and find the nearest liquor store. He has a flight in the morning, but not 'til nearly noon. Plenty of time to shake off a hangover and make his way to the airport.

His planning session for his evening binge-drinking marathon is cut blissfully short when his phone rings, an unfamiliar number with a Kansas area code on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Cas." Dean sounds relieved, like he thought Castiel might not answer. Guilt twists Cas's stomach, but it's easily drowned out by sheer joy at hearing Dean's voice. He knows that's mostly hormonal, but the moment he's fine with that. If his hormones are going to be doing ridiculous things to him, he might as well enjoy it when it's something good.

"I'm glad you called."

"I'm glad _you_ called. Look, I totally understand why you freaked out yesterday. I'm kinda freaked out, too. But it's not like we really have anyone else to talk to about this who'll understand, right?"

"That is certainly true." Castiel sighs. He definitely wishes he knew an alpha/alpha couple to talk to, find out their experiences. "And I realized that, even if we decide to go our separate ways, we'll need to work out, logistically, how to avoid each other after I move to Lawrence."

"Oh, uh. Yeah. That, too." The disappointment in Dean's voice is clear, and Castiel wants to smack himself.

"I mean—I didn't mean that I want that. But just in case. I honestly don't know what I want out of this, what outcome would be best for either of us." He's been pacing the hotel room, but he finally makes himself curl up in the armchair in the corner and relax. "Do you know anything at all about alpha/alpha relationships?"

"Well, I looked online and didn't get much in the way of facts. Too much fiction to sort through, you'd be surprised how many people wanna read stories about this." Dean huffs an incredulous laugh. Castiel isn't sure he wants to know what kind of stories Dean found. "But anyhow, I did talk to Charlie. I told her what's going on between us, I hope you don't mind."

"No! No, not at all. I'd rather not make this too public, at least not without warning my publicist first," it's Castiel's turn to laugh, imagining what Hannah will do if they go through with this, "but anyone you trust to talk to, I'm willing to trust. That… may be due to hormones. I'm not sure." He realizes that he's really not, and the thought is more than mildly disturbing.

Dean laughs again, and this time it's genuine and loud. It's a beautiful sound. "I know, right? I've heard spontaneous scent bonds have all kinds of side effects, but this stuff is just weird. I think that I am actually incapable of lying to you right now. Or, like, hiding things in general. You could ask me pretty much anything and I'd tell you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I mean, listen to me right now. That's a stupid thing to tell a person you just met! You could so use that against me. But it just, like, spills out. I'll shut up now."

Castiel is laughing, too, now. He has no idea if Dean really is this endearing, or if the hormones are causing him to _act_ more endearing, or if the hormones are causing Cas to _think_ he's more endearing—but whatever it is, he could listen to Dean talk for an hour.

"Well, since I apparently trust you implicitly, it's good for me that you can't lie." He thinks for a second. "I don't think I feel that one as strongly. The idea of lying to you does make me feel a bit nauseous, but I don't feel _compelled_ to reveal extra information to you. Interesting."

"Well anyhow, I talked to Charlie. We didn't really get into details, mostly just that we're not crazy or freaks of nature or anything. I won't bore you with all the math she did—okay, mostly because I can't remember any of it—but basically her point was that alpha/alpha couples are so rare just because there aren't many—what was it? Trisexual, homo- or bi-gender alphas who happen to have a spontaneous scent bond with _anyone._ It's just a coincidence it was with another alpha, and it's a coincidence that doesn't happen much. But she said she has met another couple that's two alphas before, so it does happen."

Castiel is a bit stuck on one thing. "I never really… thought of myself as trisexual," he says cautiously, "I've noticed when other alphas are attractive, but that was the first time I've even kissed another alpha, let alone done anything more. I mean, I—I'm not opposed to that. At all." The idea of "anything more" with Dean right now is actually a rather distractingly nice thought. "I just… It never really occurred to me. When I've been physically attracted to an alpha, it just never crossed my mind that I could possibly act on that, so I didn't really think of it as being trisexual."

"I don't think it matters what you've done, man, just how you feel. I've slept with a couple alphas, but it was always kinda hate sex, y'know? We didn't get along, but they were hot and willing, so I figured what the hell? We could put up with each other long enough to get off."

"So romantic," Castiel can't help interjecting. He wills away the twinge of jealousy in his gut.

"Ah, c'mon. Don't tell me you haven't had your share of one night stands. Hell, you must get fans crawling all over you at sci fi conventions and shit. C'mon, Cas, tell me you haven't slept with a couple groupies." Castiel wishes he could see the playful smile that's clear in Dean's voice.

Castiel sort of can't believe he's sharing his sexual history with a near-stranger, but Dean's tone holds no judgment. And Cas trusts him, whether it's deserved or not. And it's not like they won't need to discuss the topic _eventually_.

"I have had sex with people I met as fans," he admits, "but I'll have you know that they were all interesting people with whom I'd had compelling conversations."

"Riiiiiiight," Dean drawls, clearly amused. "Not just whoever threw their panties at your signing table?"

"That would certainly make my signings more exciting." Castiel laughs, fiddling with a button on his shirt. "Honestly, Dean, I've never had much interest in sleeping with people if there's only a physical attraction. Yes, I've had my share of casual sex, but it's always been with people I genuinely enjoyed talking to, not just the most physically attractive person I see in a bar. I mean, I don't judge anyone who uses that method, it's just never appealed to me."

"And that's why you've never considered sleeping with alphas you thought were hot." Dean isn't sarcastic now. His voice is a little quieter, almost like he's talking to himself as he figures something out. "You didn't like talking to them, or just didn't want to even try talking to them."

Castiel pauses. "I suppose so, yes. I'd never thought of it that way." He supposes he should be more taken aback that someone who barely knows him could be so insightful, but his gut is telling him that this makes perfect sense. Dean may not know him, but he understands him. The thought makes him a little uncomfortable—or rather, the fact that he's having this thought makes him uncomfortable.

"So how'm I doing so far?" Dean asks, the playful tone back. "Think I'd be a charming enough conversationalist to get in your pants?"

Castiel can't help smirking. "Dean Winchester, are you flirting with your own mate? Doesn't that seem a bit unnecessary?"

"Who else am I supposed to flirt with? And anyhow, we both know you're not a sure thing, so I'd better turn on the charm, right?"

Castiel pauses. He can't tell if Dean is truly joking, especially given their previous conversation about hormonally-induced honesty. "Does that mean you'd rather I were a sure thing?" He winces at the hesitation in his own voice, wishing he could sound more confident.

"Ah, shit." Castiel thinks he might hear Dean's hand hit his forehead. "No, that's—that's not what I meant, Cas. I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to pressure you or anything. God, I honestly don't know what the fuck I want here, I definitely don't expect _you_ to know. I just got carried away with the flirting thing. …You are kinda fun to flirt with."

"I suppose I was just as bad, implying that flirtation is unnecessary. I think I'm in control of what I say, but then something like that slips out and I can't tell if it's just me joking or if some other part of me that isn't joking slipped it in under my radar." He sighs. "I just wish I could trust myself, my own judgment."

"Tell me about it. Luckily, if we're not physically near each other for a few days, from what I've read I think the worst of it should die down a little. I mean, assuming this is like any other spontaneous scent bond and there's nothing weird with two alphas. Now that we're both on the same page as far as not ending it just yet, our bodies can stop freaking out about _that_. And without extra doses of each others' pheromones, all the craziest effects'll probably fade pretty quickly. I mean, we're still gonna… I dunno. All this stuff we feel for each other, the attraction and… y'know, whatever else, that's probably not going away for a long time. Charlie was sayin' we'll have the bond itself until we, like, change or move on or whatever enough that we're not actually compatible anymore. Even if we don't talk to each other or anything."

"That could be a long time."

"Yeah. Or if one of us bonds with a beta," Dean adds bitterly. "Since hey, guess what, we smell all mated and shit to omegas now."

Castiel snorts, shaking his head. "Because I've clearly had so much luck with omegas and betas the first thirty-six years of my life. I suppose I shouldn't actually be surprised that my mate is an alpha."

"Yeah, that's pretty much what I said to Charlie. I mean, I've only ever dated one person long enough to start forming a scent bond, and that was a long, long time ago. I was twenty-two, young and stupid, and the idea of that kind of commitment freaked me out so much that I broke it off before the bond could get very strong."

Dean sounds like he was going to say more, but Castiel can't help himself. He bursts out laughing, cutting Dean off.

"What? I said I was young and stupid."

"I'm sorry, it's just that that's exactly what happened the one and only time _I_ started to form a scent bond, only it was the _omega_ who ran away from _me_. And we were thirty, not twenty-two, so he couldn't blame it on youth. I fear Balthazar was simply not built for bonding." There is no bitterness in his voice; even at the time, he hadn't been at all surprised by Balthazar's reaction. Disappointed, perhaps, but not surprised.

"Man, we're a pair, huh? Jesus. Anyhow, point being, if we don't follow through we're probably stuck sticking to our own sides of Lawrence until you finish your degree and move. And, dude, _that_ is just fuckin'… I dunno, man, Charlie just wrote it off as a coincidence, but I still can't get over the fact that of all places, you chose fuckin' _Lawrence_ to move to. I dunno if it'll wind up being the best or the worst thing that's ever happened to me, but it's definitely the craziest. How'd you decide that, anyhow? Was KU just your first choice school from the get-go, or what? And why the hell are you going back to school anyhow? Not like you need writing classes when you've got bestsellers."

Castiel sighs. "I'm getting the MFA because I'm stuck in a rut, basically. There's only one more book in the Alien Angels series for me to write, and I have no idea what I'm going to do after that. This series is literally the only thing I've written for the past decade. I've tried to write a few short stories, but I can never seem to come up with a compelling concept that isn't basically an Alien Angels spinoff of some sort. Technically, I could probably live on royalties for the rest of my life, but I don't want to. I _want_ to write, it's my life. I'm hoping that taking classes, being forced to write things outside of my comfort zone will spark something, give me some kind of fresh start."

"Doesn't sound like the worst idea," Dean says, "and I'm assuming you can afford it without loans or anything so yeah, I guess why not, right? Better than staring at your word processor hoping for the best."

"Exactly," Castiel says with a smile. "As for Lawrence, it was high on my list, but I hadn't decided that I would definitely go there when I applied or anything. I got into five programs, and three of them were about even in my mind as my top choices. So the final decision mostly just came down to which town seemed like the best place to live, really. I visited them all back in February—" Castiel cuts off, feeling like the breath has been knocked out of him. He can't believe he forgot such an important detail. How could it have taken two days to think of it?

"Cas? You okay?" Dean says after the moment of silence stretches a bit too long.

"I went to your store, Dean," he says quietly. He feels a hard lump growing in the pit of his stomach. "If I see a used book store, I go in, always. When I visited Lawrence, I went in your store. You must not have been there or I assume I would have noticed, but… by the time I'd left town I'd basically decided that I wanted to live in Lawrence. And I remember… I remember thinking about what a nice little shopping district that was, the street your store is on. How it felt so warm, and welcoming, and… and like home. But, christ, _every_ college town has a street like that, with a used book store and vintage clothing stores and coffee shops and a record store that still sells vinyl. It was no different than anywhere else I'd been. God, I didn't smell you enough to notice consciously, but I must have gotten just enough of your smell…"

"Jesus christ," Dean mutters. He sounds just as shell-shocked as Castiel feels. "I was sick in February. Nasty flu, I was down for over a week. I probably hadn't been in the store for a few days when you came in, so my scent managed to fade, but… Dude, I've been working there every day since I was a teenager, my pheromones are probably, like, permanently etched into the walls."

Cas is momentarily distracted. "You worked there before you owned it?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. It was my grandpa's store originally. My dad was never interested in it, so gramps kinda started grooming me young to take over. Got an associate's in business management after high school, and he handed me the reins just a couple years before he died. Protip? Do not let a twenty-year-old take over an established business. The first year I nearly ran it into the ground until Charlie swooped in and saved my ass by replacing grandpa's handwritten accounting and inventory and shit with actual computer systems."

Castiel smiles, leaning his head against the back of the chair. He wants to hear more about Dean's past. He wants to know _everything_. But before he can say anything, Dean gets them back on-topic.

"Shit, Cas. Fuck. I hope I didn't fuck up your entire future by making you pick the wrong master's program. It's not a bad one, right?"

"No, no. Like I said, KU was one of my top three choices, and academically they were all about even. I am sure I will have no regrets with regards to the program. I must admit, though, that I am… disturbed at the thought that I chose Lawrence to live in because of a biological urge."

"Yeah. Yeah, I would be, too," Dean says, and they're quiet for a moment. Castiel's stomach is churning now, and as much as he genuinely enjoys talking to Dean, he realizes he wants some time to himself to sort through his feelings about this. Surely Dean's shop wasn't the only thing he was thinking about when he made the decision.

"Dean, I should go. Honestly, need I a bit of time to, um. Process this… realization. But… you'd still like to keep in touch?" He realizes that he's nervous. Now that they've actually had an honest-to-god conversation, Dean can actually start forming opinions about him. He's not sure he's ready to be cut off just yet, not just after they've reconnected.

"Me? Yeah. Yeah, definitely. Is that… is that still cool with you?"

"Absolutely." A thought occurs to him. "You know, at some point we should probably make some kind of a list, of questions we want answered before we make this decision. Things we need to research, things we need to talk about."

Dean laughs. "Look at you, being a responsible adult. Glad one of us is."

Castiel squints and tilts his head in confusion, purely out of habit even though Dean isn't there for him to look at. "You run your own business, Dean, you must be quite responsible."

"At work, sure. In my personal life? Pssh. I eat out too much, I stay up too late playing video games, I only learned to actually keep my apartment clean in the past couple years—Jesus, I seriously cannot stop running my mouth, and I gotta tell ya, it's getting a little annoying."

Castiel is laughing now, even though he feels sorry for Dean. He's glad that, even if he probably couldn't tell Dean an outright lie, he doesn't feel the compulsion to list every one of his faults. "That's fine, Dean. I'm sure you're a perfectly adequate adult."

"Adequate, thanks," Dean replies, but the pout in his voice is clearly there to hide amusement. "Anyhow, yeah, a list sounds like a good idea. Like, could we form a blood bond if we wanted to? And if so, how the hell would we do it?"

"Yes, I'm writing that down," Castiel says, grabbing the hotel's complimentary pen and notepad from the desk next to him. "My brother is a doctor, I can ask him about that. And we should discuss the social stigma that comes with being an alpha/alpha couple. Trying to find one online to ask about it might be a good idea."

"Yeah, totally. Oh, and if we can blood bond, is it fully legal? Like, as legal as an alpha/omega blood bond? Do we have to jump through any extra hoops or will we just need to register a blood test like anyone else?"

"Yes. Got it," Cas says as he writes down the suggestion. Under that, he writes _Children?_ , but he doesn't really want to even bring up the topic until they're actually ready to talk about it. "Okay, I should go. Um. I guess I'll… I'll talk to you later?"

"Yeah. Talk to you later. Good night, Cas."

"Good night, Dean."

After they hang up, Castiel closes his eyes. He was exposed to Dean's pheromones when he visited and it influenced his decision to move to Lawrence. It couldn't have been the _only_ factor, though. He runs through the visit in his mind. He'd met with a couple of the faculty members, and he knows that he was (and still is) especially looking forward to working with Professor Milton after speaking with her. Her interests aligned most closely with his out of nearly anyone he'd met (she also happened to be the only faculty member who'd actually read his books), so that was one point KU actually did have over the other schools academically.

As for Lawrence itself, there had to be other factors. Price was certainly one—the cost of living was the lowest of any of the cities he was looking at. And the fact that it's only a half hour or so away from a major metropolitan area—the other college towns were relatively out in the middle of nowhere. He'd known both of those going into the trip, though the point had been driven home when he discovered how much easier it was to fly into KCI and drive to Lawrence than to fly to small regional airports and drive up to two hours to get to the others. With his travel schedule, that will matter, especially if the movie deal goes through.

Upon reflection, he realizes that although the warm feelings he'd had towards the street Dean's store was on had certainly influenced his decision, there are other things he likes about the town itself. He'd stumbled upon a large park near campus—one that had no particular reason to smell like Dean—that he'd immediately taken a liking to. He likes the layout of the campus better than the others, too. It's the only one he hadn't managed to get lost in.

He heaves a relieved sigh. Okay. It's still unnerving to think that biology had _any_ say in his decision, especially without his even realizing it. But it hadn't made the decision for him. He thinks. He's fairly certain. At any rate, it's too late to choose a different program, let alone back out of the house he's buying. Now that he knows what he's dealing with, he'll be more careful. He thinks with time, he'll learn to confidently sort out what is real and what is a byproduct of hormone overload.

He decides to make one more phone call before he finds a bite to eat and heads to bed.

"Hey, baby bro, to what do I owe the pleasure? Aren't you out doing some famous-author tour thing?"

"I believe we've been over the inadequacy of your definition of 'famous,' Gabriel. But yes, I am still doing my publicity tour. I'm in Boston right now, actually."

"So what's up? You shouldn't be talking to your big brother, you should be out hitting the town, using all that Nebula-winning clout to get all the omegas in Beantown lining up for you."

Castiel snorts. "Yes, I hear the ladies can't resist a man who's won awards for his science fiction. But funny you should choose that particular joke to make. I have a… a medical question."

"Aw man, did you get the clap or something? No, lemme guess, chlamydia. I hear all the kids are getting chlamydia these days."

"I do not have a sexually transmitted disease," Castiel snaps, even though he knows Gabriel is teasing him.

"Well good, 'cause I ain't that type of doctor. You thinking of gettin' some work done? 'Cause I gotta tell ya, people pay a lot of money for a jawline like yours, so I don't really think—"

"No. I realize you are a plastic surgeon, Gabriel, but I was hoping this might be something you covered in med school. It's… it is sexual, I suppose. But not exactly something they covered in high school sex ed."

"Ooh, kinky." Castiel can practically hear Gabriel's eyebrows waggling. He groans. This information _must_ be available on the internet, why did he think calling his brother was a good idea?

"Jesus, never mind, Gabriel. Forget I called."

"Hey, hey, hey. C'mon, little bro. You know I'm here for you. I've got it outta my system, okay? I won't even make fun of you when I find out exactly what kind of deviant you are."

The word "deviant" makes his cheeks burn. He knows Gabriel would never have said it if he had any idea what Castiel is actually calling about, but it's still a harsh reminder that he and Dean's relationship would be viewed as strange _at best_ , even by a lot of queer people. He takes a deep breath and decides to get it over with quickly.

"Can two alphas form a blood bond?"

There's a slight pause.

"Well, _that's_ certainly not what I was expecting. I mean, yeah, theoretically, sure. The chemicals are all there. But obviously there'd have to be a scent bond first, and look, Cassie, I don't know if you're actually asking this for yourself but—you don't exactly tend to play nice with other alphas so much."

"What if there were a spontaneous scent bond?" His voice is a little quieter now, because he knows Gabriel will know. He knows it for a _fact_ when there are several beats before Gabe's reply.

"…Are you jerking my chain, Cassie?"

"I have made no actual claims with which to try to fool you—"

" _Castiel_. Did you form a spontaneous scent bond with another alpha or not?"

"…Yes?" Castiel feels unsure of himself now. He wasn't expecting his brother to sound quite _this_ shocked. He's a doctor, he has to have seen everything. Right?

"Wow. _Wow_. Well, hey, first off, mazel tov. Who's the lucky guy?"

Castiel is a bit thrown off by how quickly Gabriel seems to have recovered from his shock. The last thing he'd been expecting was congratulations.

"His name is Dean Winchester. He owns the bookstore I did a signing at yesterday in Lawrence, Kansas."

"Uh—Lawrence, Kansas, as in the same Lawrence, Kansas where you just bought a house?"

"Yes, it's—it's a long story." Castiel rubs his temple. He so does not feel like getting into the details right now.

"Convenient, anyhow. So—wait, you just said you're in Boston now? How the hell did you two manage to quit boinking long enough for you to get back on this tour thing? It must be killing you!"

"We haven't… done… anything. We've only spent a grand total of ten minutes or so physically together."

Gabriel lets out a low whistle. "That's rough. I mean, I can't really relate, being a beta and all, but I've seen enough SSBs to know that leaving your mate's side in the first few days is damn near impossible."

"It has been a bit rough, yes. But when we realized we're both alphas, we knew we needed to think this through before we go letting our hormones make major life decisions for us. Plus, I had a signing to get through, he has a store to run. The timing wasn't the best."

"The timing is never wrong for true love, Cassie."

"It's not true love," Castiel snaps, annoyed. "I can't love someone I don't know! Yes, our personalities are probably very compatible, and yes, maybe we _could_ fall in love given time, but I do not love him. I've only had a couple of conversations with the man. I do like him so far, don't get me wrong. I'm extremely impressed with how he's handled this whole situation, better than I have. And he's funny and… _incredibly_ handsome. But just because our pheromones are crazy for each other does not mean that we are in love, nor that we have no choice in the matter."

"Okay, okay, down boy. But don't tell me you two are seriously considering not getting together?"

"It's an option. Of course it's an option, Gabriel." Castiel's annoyance level is ratcheting up, and he's again regretting this phone call. "We are neither legally nor morally obligated to act on a spontaneous scent bond. We need to weigh the disadvantages of being in an alpha/alpha relationship and decide if it's really in both our best interests to proceed."

Gabriel snorts. "You sound like you're two companies considering a merger. Come on, you're putting on this show of being all detached and clinical, but you don't have to do that with me."

"I'm not doing it for you, Gabriel," Castiel sighs. "I'm doing it for myself. It's the only way I can keep myself sane right now. You have no idea what it's like, the hormonal overload. Once that recedes a bit, maybe I'll be able to let myself… let my emotions play a bigger part in my decision-making. But right now, I'm having trouble knowing what's real and what's biological, and I just need to focus on whatever I can think about _rationally_. And you know better than anyone that I have good reason to distrust a spontaneous scent bond in the first place."

"Fair enough. But you know what happened with dad, that's like, a one in a million kind of thing, right? Statistically speaking, this guy is probably perfect for you."

"I understand how statistics work, Gabriel. Somehow it's less reassuring than it should be."

"Yeah, I get it," Gabriel says softly. He clears his throat, and is back to his boisterous self. "So you want to know if you two can blood bond?"

"Yes. That's something we'd like to take into account in our decision-making."

"Okay. Well, like I said, all the chemicals are there. You just have to get them in the right places at the right times. So. With the usual alpha/omega bond, the necessary hormones are in four places, right? Alpha saliva, omega blood, alpha semen, and omega slick. The cool thing is, though, that alphas and omegas both have the same hormones in the saliva and blood. Tasting Dean's blood gives you the same stuff you'd get tasting an omega's blood. Same goes for the other two—your spunk is just as good as an omega's slick. Those hormones are absorbed through your knot. So I'm guessing you can do the math and figure out what all has to happen, all at about the same time, for the bond to take."

Castiel pushes past the embarrassment of talking about his knot with his brother. After all, Gabriel was the one who originally explained the birds and the bees to him, when their parents were too embarrassed to tell him any more than "you'll find a nice omega and you'll know what to do."

"So we need to bite each other, plus we both need to get the other's semen on our knots? Long enough to absorb the hormones through our skin?"

"Yep. Like I said, kinky."

"That certainly sounds… doable."

"I bet he's doable."

" _Gabriel_."

"Sorry, sorry. I do want a picture of this guy, though. See if he's really as hot as you say, or if hormones are clouding your judgment. But anyhow, yeah, it's totally possible."

"Thank you. That's good to know. And there are pictures of him on his store's website. Winchester Used Books in Lawrence, Kansas." 

"I will definitely be checking that out." 

"Please do, so you can tell me if I'm just a freak or a freak who is completely screwed."

"Whoa, whoa! Cassie, you are not a freak." Castiel is surprised at how serious Gabriel sounds for once. "Okay? Seriously. Yes, alpha/alpha couples are rare. Really rare. And because of that, there's not much research on them, whether the combination of alpha hormones has any effects over time, things like that. But that doesn't make you guys freaks, or make your relationship less legitimate or wrong or a bad idea or anything like that. I get that it would be tough. Some people might treat you like shit. But that's their problem, okay, not yours. You know I'll support you whether you two decide to get together or not, but don't make a decision based on thinking there's something inherently wrong here, because there's not."

Okay, maybe this phone call wasn't _entirely_ a bad idea. 

"I know. I know. Thank you, Gabriel. Your support does mean a lot to me."

After they've gotten off the phone, he stares down at the list in his hands. He crosses out "Can alphas blood bond?" His eyes linger on the words "blood bond," and he wills himself not to imagine himself and Dean going through the process he just discussed with his brother. The biting, coating each others' knots in their come. Terrific, now he's getting hard _and_ missing Dean fiercely, so that did not go well. He gets up with a growl and heads out to find dinner.

Later that night, when he's in bed and finally lets himself give in and touch himself while thinking about Dean, it occurs to him that Dean is likely doing the same thing. And thinking about Castiel. He comes harder than he has by himself in a long time to the thought of Dean squeezing his own knot and crying out his name. He decides he doesn't need to bother hating himself for it. Sex is nothing but hormones anyhow, so who cares if his are taking more control than usual? He's willing to file that under "things he's allowed to enjoy about this godforsaken situation."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone care to guess who the two alphas were that Dean had hate sex with? ;)
> 
> (Hint: it was one male and one female. He really _has_ slept with every sex/gender combo at least once.)


	5. Chapter 5

After the conversation with Cas, Dean feels more settled, more relaxed than he has in a while. He's still trying to wrap his head around this whole thing—the idea that maybe he's gonna spend the rest of his life with this guy, or maybe he's never gonna see him again, and there's probably no in-between. It's crazy that so many people just get thrown into this and have probably gone through with the blood bond before they even manage to stop and take a breath, let alone make any rational decisions. Most of 'em hardly even manage to have a real conversation beyond the most basic information before they make it to bed, from what he hears. He can believe it, having experienced the hormonal rush, but he's glad they didn't go that route.

He puts some water on to boil to make some spaghetti for dinner, and as he starts heating up a pan to cook some ground beef he sighs. The truth is, this whole situation has kinda forced him to think about some stuff he's been trying real hard not to think about for the past few years. And the harder everyone around him pushes, the more he ignores it. But it's kinda do-or-die time; let's say he and Cas do get together. What kind of mate is he gonna be?

He hates the word "workaholic," but there's not a person in his life who wouldn't apply it to him. The family business is all he's got; all he's ever had most of his adult life. He finally gave in and made Jo a manager a couple years back, but he knows he doesn't give her as much responsibility as she could handle. It's not that he's a control freak—well, mostly not—he's just never really wanted to have to think about what he'd do with his time if he weren't working open to close six days a week. The store is more his home than this apartment is.

He'd never really meant to wind up like this. The first couple of years after he took over, he'd had to work hard just to keep his head above water. Then just as he and Lisa were getting serious, Grandpa Henry had died and Sam left for Stanford within a couple months of each other. He'd used the store as part of his excuse for not settling down with her, and as a distraction from the depression that was threatening to overtake him. He had a slightly larger staff back then, and after a couple more years he did let himself ease up a bit to have something resembling a social life. 

But then Sam and Jess got engaged and announced they were staying in California after graduation, having gotten into law school and med school respectively there. And a year later, his parents had moved out there in anticipation of grandchildren that it was clear Dean wouldn't be getting around to any time soon. Amazon was really bashing in the brains of the independents by then, so Dean had the perfect excuse to tighten the purse strings and not replace a couple people when they left, conveniently taking over most of their hours himself. It wasn't like he was alone in the world—he had Charlie, he had Benny and Victor, and of course Bobby and Ellen and Jo. But he happened to have just enough people left in Lawrence that he cared about that he could keep them from feeling like they never saw him with only one day off a week (especially now that Charlie and Jo were both working for him). He pretended not to notice that he was more concerned that his friends and family not feel ignored than that he actually got to spend as much time with them as he'd like to.

But recently they've all been on his ass to cut back his hours, hire a couple more people. He claims they still can't afford any more staff, but that's not really all that true. The store's doing as well as an independent bookstore can do in this day and age, and a couple more part-timers wouldn't break the bank. With Kevin leaving for college soon, he'll have to do the whole hiring song and dance to get at least one new person anyhow.

As he pours the sauce into the seasoned meat and adds the pasta to the boiling water, he turns it over in his head. The truth is, he's always wanted kids. How he ever thought he was gonna get any when he refuses to take enough time to even date, let alone find someone to have them with, he's not sure. Somehow, 'have kids' has always felt like this abstract concept that would just sort of fall into place someday, completely unrelated to the more concrete ideas of 'date people right now' and 'make room in his life for a committed relationship' that he's spent the past decade actively avoiding. But whether it's with Cas or with someone else, if he ever actually wants that to be a reality something's going to have to give somewhere.

Once everything's ready, he takes his plate of spaghetti over to the computer and looks over the books while he eats.

—

The next day, it's just him, Jo, and Charlie in the morning. Garth is off, Kevin won't be coming in til the afternoon. After they've gotten their morning stuff done, he sits them down before opening.

"So Kevin's only got three weeks left before he leaves us for Princeton," he starts.

"I put a stack of applications by the registers yesterday," Jo points out, "and I told you I'll handle it. I know you hate hiring."

"Which is great, thank you. But I've been thinking and I think we're gonna look for three new people instead of one." He pointedly ignores the way both of their eyes widen as they turn to look at each other. "Three part-timers, and they need to be able to close regularly, work weekends, or both. Preference to people who are likely to stick around for a while, so if they're college students I'd rather they be from around here, not kids who are gonna go back to Wichita for the summer. Other than that, you know what I look for in an employee, what kind of people are likely to fit in here. No more than one other alpha so our hours don't have to overlap too much."

Charlie raises an eyebrow at that, which he also ignores. "Not that we're not thrilled, Dean," she says, "but what brought on this change of heart?"

"What can I say, you guys have finally pounded it into my brain that maybe it wouldn't kill me to work fifty hours a week instead of seventy. Once we get the newbies hired and trained, I'll start taking off one weekday, depending on what days they can work, along with my usual Saturday. And Jo, if you don't mind we'll rearrange your schedule a bit so you can close instead of open most days and I'll try to get my ass out of here by six."

"I don't know whether to ask you where you hid Dean's body, or start going to church because this is an honest-to-god miracle," Jo crows, "but hells yes I will close more often if it means you'll actually go do something with your evenings. Or, preferably, some _one_."

She and Charlie high five, and Dean rolls his eyes.

"Okay, can we not have a repeat of the Craigslist disaster? Just because I won't be working as many hours doesn't mean I need my favorite busybodies setting me up with random customers or signs in the store about 'Lawrence's most eligible bachelor.'" It is truly mind-boggling the lengths his "friends" have gone to in the past to get him a date when he didn't particularly want one. But he knows he'll have to answer to the sly look in Charlie's eye.

Sure enough, once they're open and Jo is helping a customer, Charlie corners him behind the register.

"Look me in the eye and tell me that this sudden desire to make more time for your personal life has absolutely _nothing_ to do with a certain dreamy author. Seriously, Dean, did you two work this out already? Are you making plans to go home and cuddle your mate every night?" She's looking at him like he's an adorable kitten playing with a ball of yarn, and he has to roll his eyes again.

"Cas and I haven't decided anything, and we're probably not going to for a while, so chill out, Red." He shrugs and looks down at the book he's putting on hold for a customer who'd called earlier. "I dunno, the whole thing just got me thinkin', y'know? Even if it doesn't work out with him, I don't wanna wake up one day and realize I'm fifty and never got around to havin' any kids to take over the place when I retire. Not that any of you have room to talk, this place looks like we've got a policy against employees getting married or something, but at least you guys are trying, I guess. I haven't had more than a one night stand in years now, and I'm just gettin' to old for that shit."

"Either way, it's a great idea. Even if you're not dating someone, you need a hobby or something, Dean. When was the last time you did more than change the Impala's oil? You used to love working on that car. Find _something_ that's just for you, okay?"

She has a point. His baby's not exactly rusting out, but she could use a lot more care than he's been giving her. Damn Charlie, being so smart all the time. He nods and heads back to the stock room to unload a shipment that just came in.

—

That night, Cas tells him about his conversation with his brother, Gabriel. Dean can't imagine talking to Sam about smearing come on his knot, and Cas admits he could only do it because it was over the phone. Talking about it with Cas, though? That's not so bad. 

In fact, it gets him reasonably turned on, which to his horror he finds himself telling Cas. Then apologizing profusely, but luckily Castiel seems to just think it's hilarious… before admitting that he feels the same way. But then Cas quickly changes the subject, wondering if they should get their hormone levels checked by a doctor just to make sure everything really is normal.

Dean is a little worried that a doctor might start asking embarrassing personal questions, like whether he's been jerking off to thoughts of his mate—and then he realizes he just said _that_ out loud, too.

He's pretty sure that Cas is never going to speak to a creeper like him again, especially once the earth opens up and swallows him whole.

That is, until Cas breaks the awkward silence.

"Have you?" And Cas's already-low voice is clearly pitched even lower than usual. If Dean didn't know better, he'd say Cas sounds aroused.

"Yes. Shit! That's not fair, dude, you know I can't lie to you. Fuck." Yep, fucking creeper for sure.

"So have I," Cas says, and Dean can't quite work his mouth for a minute.

"I guess that means you're not going to stop talking to me for being the creepiest guy you've ever met, then?"

Castiel laughs. "No, apparently not."

And then somehow they manage to change the subject again, but holy fuck is Dean's masturbatory session that night a good one.

They don't bring it up again, too busy getting to know each other. Over the next couple of days, Dean gets in the habit of talking to Cas every night on the phone. The conversation flows like wine, every time. They always have things to talk about and Cas is always easy to talk to. They definitely don't agree on everything; Cas is sort of neutral about cars, but doesn't seem to mind listening to Dean talk about them, while he seems obsessed with bees… which turn out to be kinda interesting, when Cas talks about them.

He tells Cas all about Sammy and Jess and their daughters, about his rocky relationship with his dad and how much he misses his mom since they moved to California. Tells him about Bobby and Ellen and Jo, and about how Charlie is family even if she isn't blood. Castiel seems to know a little something about family not ending in blood, though; his father ran off shortly after he was born, never to be seen again. His mother remarried when he was too young to remember, and he was raised by his stepdad.

"Our names never failed to confuse every adult we came into contact with. My mother kept her maiden name through both marriages, but Gabriel and I have our biological father's last name. So teachers or doctors would try to address our mother as Mrs Novak, only to be corrected to Mrs Rosen. Then they'd try to call Chuck Mr Rosen, only to be told that it's Mr Shurley. The faces some people made by the end of it could be highly entertaining."

"Dude, I'm confused and I already know what's going on," Dean says with a laugh. "Wait, your stepdad—Chuck Shurley? That name sounds familiar."

"You probably sell his books. He's a children's author. He's written several picture books and has an ongoing middle grades series, Bone Chillers."

"Right!" Dean blinks. He can't believe he didn't connect the name immediately. "Yeah, I used to read Bone Chillers when I was a kid. Although they were pretty new then, now there's like a billion of 'em. Must keep him pretty busy."

"He writes nearly nonstop. I could never have his stamina. When he's not writing for publication, he and my mother both write fanfiction. They can be very… _passionate_ when it comes to their favorite television shows and books."

"So I guess writing runs in the family?"

"You could say that. It seems that I come by it through both nature and nurture."

Soon, it's Saturday, Dean's day off. He takes Charlie's advice and tinkers with his baby for a while, mostly just poking around to see what she needs. By lunchtime he's got a list of parts, and he orders them online while he eats. He looks at the clock. Cas was flying to Phoenix this morning, should be getting to his hotel around now. Dean shoots him a text to see how his flight was. 

Then he stares at his phone for a minute. Is he being too pushy? Are the hormones making him clingy? Is Cas getting annoyed with him? He scrolls back through their texts and his phone records. He's definitely not always the one calling or texting first. It's about even. Maybe it's hormonal, but… he just really enjoys talking to the guy? Why does that make him feel weird? He doesn't make new friends all that often, but it's not like he's not capable of it. Are they friends? They're mates, but that's biological, that doesn't _mean_ anything. They've talked way too much at this point to not be friends, right?

He flips on the TV and surfs around a bit as Cas texts him that the flight was fine, and he's in the cab to his hotel. Dean tells Cas about the parts he's getting for his car, they exchange some small talk and then Cas says he needs to get checked into his hotel. Dean flips by TBS and stops, letting out a triumphant sound.

"Aw yeah, Return of the Jedi!"

Dean grabs himself a can of Coke from the kitchen and settles in to watch the movie. He's surprised when his phone rings ten minutes in.

"Hey, what's up?"

He can practically hear the shrug on the other end. "I'm settled into my hotel room and basically have nothing to do for the next few hours. It does have a nice view, though."

Dean grins. Cas is the one calling _him_ when he's bored.

"Does your hotel TV get TBS? Return of the Jedi is on, man!"

"Surely you have the entire series on DVD," Cas says, but Dean can hear the TV turn on in the background. "Why are you so excited that it's on television if you can watch it whenever you want?"

"Not the point, dude. Yeah, I can watch it whenever I want, but I dunno, there's something special about turning on the TV to find them playing one of your favorite movies, y'know? Like the universe aligned just right, just to entertain me. I can't look a gift horse in the mouth."

Cas chuckles, and Dean can hear the same scene over the phone that he's watching right now.

A couple hours later, Dean decides that if you watch a movie together over the phone with someone, that must mean you're officially friends.

 


	6. Chapter 6

It's been exactly one week since he met Dean Winchester. Castiel looks down at his phone, scrolling through their recent texts. Of which there are many. They talk on the phone every day. A couple of days ago, in a fit of boredom Castiel even watched _Return of the Jedi_ on television with Dean while they were on the phone, and there are several different ways in which that activity makes no sense at all.

It occurs to Castiel that he was not actually expecting to become friends with Dean. He's not sure what he expected, really—most likely, for them to have a few conversations about their situation, sticking mostly to necessary information, and then to decide in a very rational and adult fashion that they should part ways. He hadn't really stopped to think about what sort of sequence of events might lead to their actually going through with this.

If he had, he would probably have conjured a fairly pessimistic picture, one where they're both driven mad by hormones and lose all control the moment he sets foot in Lawrence.

The idea that they might just _like_ each other and become friends, and then… what? Keep doing more of the same until they fall in love? It had barely crossed his mind. It's a little terrifying to think that they might be doing exactly what his hormones wanted him to do, without even realizing it.

He reminds himself that he can always call it off, at any point. Yes, there would be physical repercussions, and yes, Dean might be disappointed, but if Castiel really starts to feel like his body is tricking him into feeling things he shouldn't, then it's better to deal with all of that sooner rather than later. Right now, there's no reason to think that just because he can be friends with the guy, anything else will happen. Maybe they can go right on being friends, even if they can never meet in person again. Who knows, maybe once the spontaneous scent bond wears off, however long that takes, they can be normal friends. There's no reason to toss that possibility out because of fear.

He checks the clock; it's nearly six. He's in Seattle, which happens to be where his PR firm is located. He promised Hannah that he'd show up at an event with her tonight. He's not even sure what exactly it is, some wine and cheese thing raising money for a local charity that needs a few minor celebrities to show their faces. He's supposed to be there at seven, and he still needs to shower the airplane off of himself, so he'd better get moving.

He arrives right at seven, greeting Hannah with a peck on the cheek. He glances around the room and is relieved to see that there are several people much more famous than him there, which means that he probably won't have to do much. There are a couple of actors who he assumes are filming things in Vancouver, like Jennifer Morrison and Rainn Wilson; they'll absorb the brunt of the attention. The only other writer he sees is Sherman Alexie, who at the very least is definitely better-known in Washington than Castiel. He can relax and save his energy for his signing tomorrow.

He turns back to Hannah to find her looking at him suspiciously.

"Castiel, I didn't know you were seeing anyone," she says carefully.

He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm not."

"Forgive me for being intrusive, but it _is_ my job to know what happens in your life before the internet finds out. And you clearly smell like you're forming a scent bond. Did you just break up with someone?"

He grabs a glass of wine from a passing waiter and downs half of it, which earns him raised eyebrows from Hannah.

"We should wait til after the event to talk about this in private, Hannah."

"All right," she says slowly, eyes narrowed. But her face clears quickly and she starts pulling him around the room, making introductions.

Two hours later, he's had enough wine that even his autocorrect is not quite sure what he's trying to say.

To Dean: _I thunk jim morrison's bodysurf is going to harm his oil guy that kepa getting to closet._

From Dean: _Dude, you didn't tell me Jim Morrison's at this thing. Get me an autograph! If his bodysurf will let you._

To Dean: _Duck you, that girl from house._

From Dean: _Such language._

To Dean: _I hate you._

He pockets his phone before he can get a reply and scans the room for Hannah. He wanders over to her, thankfully not drunk enough yet to have trouble walking or talking, just typing on his tiny little phone keyboard.

He leans against the table next to her. "Am I allowed to leave yet?"

"Only if you promise not to drive," she says pointedly before taking his arm and heading toward the door.

"I'm not _that_ drunk. I mean, yes, I'm too drunk to drive, but I'm not drunk enough for you to give me a hard time about it. I'm not drunk enough to do anything embarrassing in public. Like drive."

"Luckily for me, I have a feeling it would take a lot to get you to that point. You are definitely one of my easier clients, Castiel."

And okay, he is _some_ drunk, because that sets him off giggling.

Hannah's face falls immediately.

"Please, please tell me that you are laughing about something completely unrelated and not because you find the idea of your being an easy client funny. Is this about the scent bond?"

Castiel stops giggling immediately, and he reflexively looks around to see who might have heard that.

"I told you we should talk about that in _private_ , Hannah."

"This is _not_ reassuring. Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to drive you back to your hotel myself, and you can tell me all about it in the privacy of my car, okay?"

He nods, and she talks to the valet.

Five minutes later, he's folded into the passenger seat of her little Honda and she's glancing over at him expectantly.

"Tour's going well," he starts. He _is_ drunk enough to think that this is a clever way to segue into the topic.

"So I hear," she says slowly. "That's good. By the way, while you're in Portland I just booked you an interview on the college radio station down in Eugene. If you weren't planning to rent a car we can work something out. So what else have you got to tell me?"

"You know how I'm moving to Lawrence soon? And I did a signing there last week?"

"Yes…"

"It's the owner of the bookstore I did the signing at."

Hannah looks like she's about to ask _what's_ the owner of the bookstore, but then she does a double take.

"The scent bond?"

"Yes. It was a spontaneous scent bond."

"Oh! Wow. Okay. That's… wait, you…" She sniffs. "That doesn't smell nearly strong enough for a spontaneous scent bond, and you didn't cancel any of your events. You couldn't possibly have blood bonded. What happened?"

She looks genuinely upset for him, which Castiel appreciates.

"He's an alpha."

" _What?_ " Her eyes widen almost comically as she rapidly looks between him and the road. "That can't be right. There must have been something strange hormonally going on between you, it managed to trick your body into thinking there's a slight bond, but. Castiel. It obviously wasn't a _real_ spontaneous scent bond."

"Real enough that after I left the store without getting his number, I felt like I was about to die."

"You made the right choice, though, there's no sense in indulging something like that when it could never be real."

Castiel stiffens, offended. Just because he's not sure if he wants this doesn't mean it _couldn't_ be real if he _does_ want it. Wait, no, he's not supposed to think that way. He's supposed to stay vigilant in case his hormones are trying to trick him into something that _isn't_ real. But still. He can be _friends_ with Dean if he damn well pleases. He doesn't need Hannah condescending to him about it.

"I called the store the next morning," he says, keeping his voice carefully neutral. His head is clearing, but he knows he's had just enough to drink that he needs to keep a tight lid on any anger, because if he doesn't he might lose control of it too quickly. "I've talked to him every day since."

"Oh," Hannah says in a small voice.

"We're friends. We don't know yet if we'll ever want to be more than that, but we're not ruling anything out yet. So tell me, Hannah, would it be a problem for you to have an alpha client who is mated to another alpha?"

"'Problem' isn't the right word, Castiel," she says, her words careful and her tone professional. "It's a situation that would have to be handled delicately with the media, you know that. Just because you're out as homogender and it hasn't been a major issue doesn't mean that people would accept you being with a man who's an alpha. Even if it's possible for the two of you to actually be mated—and I'm honestly not convinced of that—many people would see it as… unnatural. Even those who see themselves as progressive might draw the line at that. Plus, this…" 

She pauses, seeming to look for the right words. "There is generally a limit to how famous a science fiction author can get. There aren't exactly many in the tabloids, being hounded by paparazzi. This kind of thing could very well push you into that kind of spotlight, though, at least for a little while. It's the type of story they'd tire of quickly, but for a few weeks you might not get much privacy. And you may well find yourself held up as a symbol of an entire group of people."

"I hadn't thought of that," Castiel admits.

"That's because it's my job to think of these things, not yours." She pulls into the hotel parking lot. "Obviously, we'll need to talk about this more. Please keep me updated. But Castiel—"

He was reaching for the door handle, but he stops as she puts her hand on his shoulder.

"It really would be unprecedented for an alpha in your position to be with another alpha. We may be able to spin that in your favor, but we may not. You may very well lose the movie deal at a minimum. Before you make any decisions, think about how much you're willing to throw away for one man."

—

Castiel does think about it over the next three days. He doesn't let his thinking disrupt his growing friendship with Dean, because there's still no reason for them not to be friends. But he does add it to the list of things they should talk about…  they should probably get around to talking about those eventually. A month didn't sound like enough time to begin with, but now that it's down to two and a half weeks, it's frighteningly soon.

He suddenly realizes that fact while he and Dean are on the phone one evening. He's in his hotel room in San Francisco, having just got in from dinner.

"Oh!" He was listening to Dean's story about the prank Jo played on Charlie today, he really was, but the fact that they have less than three weeks to figure out the rest of their lives sort of hits him out of nowhere.

"—What?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you, please finish, Dean." Castiel shakes his head to clear it, feeling ridiculous.

"No, whatever, I can tell you about this anytime. What is it?" Dean sounds concerned. Castiel feels more ridiculous.

"I'm sorry, for no discernible reason I just realized that we're down to two and a half weeks until I move and we haven't really discussed any of the topics we'd planned to discuss."

"Oh…" Dean pauses. "Shit, yeah. One of these days we have to actually figure out if we wanna…"

"…Spend the rest of our lives together? Or never see each other again?" Castiel supplies.

"Yeah. That." Dean sounds uncomfortable. "Damn it. I'll be honest, I'm really enjoying getting to know you and I'm really glad we're friends now, but I also really don't want to have to think about permanent shit like that yet. I wish we could just… be friends, y'know?"

"Yes. I do know. We don't have to decide anything yet, Dean. We've still got some time. But perhaps we should talk about some related issues?"

"Sure, yeah. So your brother says a blood bond isn't a problem, right? What else?"

"Well, there's the social stigma. Related to that, I explained the situation to Hannah and she pointed out that even though I am not nearly famous enough to warrant it, the novelty of any somewhat public figure being in an alpha/alpha relationship might be enough to make the paparazzi descend on us, at least for a little while. It… could possibly also have professional repercussions." He tries to make that sounds less serious than he knows it is.

"Ugh. I mean, paparazzi doesn't sound like fun, I don't really want my photo on TMZ or something, but that'd only be temporary, right? I mean, they move on to the next big thing pretty quick. We'd still have to live with people looking down on us for it for a long time after that." Dean pauses. "What professional repercussions were you thinking of?"

"Well, the usual when dealing with bigots. Being out as homogender I've certainly seen enough of it already. Bookstores that won't let me do signings, a few that won't even stock my books. People who give my books bad reviews because of who wrote them rather than their content. But Hannah thinks that it's possible it would get worse as an alpha couple."

"Man, I don't get it, y'know?" Dean sounds annoyed, and reasonably so. "I didn't know it was possible, but if I met a couple of mated alphas, it's not like I'd treat them any different. I don't get why someone would be okay with, say, two beta men being together but not two alpha men."

"Based on the small amount of information I've found online, it seems to be because it involves our bonding hormones overriding the alphasine that would normally keep us from being together long enough to form a bond. Some people feel that that's a step too far, too 'unnatural' for their tastes." Castiel snorts. "Because apparently one hormone is more natural than the other. I'd be happy to get rid of my alphasine entirely, to be honest. I'd like the opportunity to get to know other alphas and judge them on their merits, not have physical discomfort get in the way." 

"I know, right?" Dean agrees enthusiastically. "There've been a few guys I've met who seemed pretty cool, I'd probably totally be friends with them, except that being in the same room with 'em for too long made both of us get all pissy. It's bullshit. Someone needs to invent an alphasine blocker. Anyhow, so Hannah thinks more bookstores and reviewers and stuff won't like you?"

Castiel pauses. He doesn't really want to tell Dean what Hannah said, since it sounds worse than Castiel really thinks it's likely to be. But while he no longer feels a _compulsion_ to be completely honest, he definitely feels like he'll regret it if he isn't.

"She… she thinks it's possible I could lose the movie deal. But I think that's extremely unlikely," he rushes to add, "given how liberal Hollywood tends to be and the fact that I'm just an author whose novel would be adapted, not an actor wanting to star in it."

"Still. Fuck, Cas. I don't wanna screw that up for you, man."

"Dean," he says gently. He's thought this through already. " _If_ I were to decide that I want to mate with you, and spend the rest of my life with you, that would be far more important to me than one small career move. A movie would be an interesting experience for a year or two at most and a sum of money that frankly I don't particularly need. That's nothing on a lifetime together."

Dean snorts. "Shit, you say that like it's true. Trust me, Cas, I'm not actually worth risking that much."

It's not the first time in the ten days Cas has known him that Dean has said something that betrays his low self-worth. At first Cas thought that it was part of the whole hormonal truth-serum thing, but the odd part was that Dean never called attention to it like he did the other times, never seemed to realize that what he was saying was at all out of place. And now he claims that while he still can't tell Castiel an outright lie, he no longer blurts out everything uncontrollably. The only explanation that Cas can see is that not only does he believe these things, he believes them so wholeheartedly that he doesn't think anyone else would consider them odd things for him to say.

Castiel also knows that a rebuttal from a man who's only known him a few days isn't likely to change his mind. Once he knows Dean a bit better, for a bit longer, maybe his words will carry more weight.

"Dean, I hope you will allow me to make that decision for myself when the time comes," he says instead. It will have to do for now. He continues before Dean can respond. "At any rate, it's unlikely to impact my actual writing career. I'm under contract for the next book already, and my books so far have sold well enough that if my current publisher _were_ to drop me after that, I'm confident that I could find another. I really don't think that should be our main concern."

They move on to discussing the potential reactions from their family and friends and agree that, other than Dean's father, everyone who matters is likely to be supportive. Then Castiel asks if it might impact Dean's store.

Dean sucks in a breath. "Oooh. I gotta be honest, I'm not really sure. I mean, Lawrence is pretty liberal for Kansas, but it's still in Kansas. I've got a sign up saying the store is LGBT-owned and LGBT-friendly already, so anyone who's too uptight about that shit isn't shopping there anyhow. I mean, it's not like I'm planning on putting signs everywhere announcing I'm with another alpha, y'know? So like ninety percent of our customers probably won't even know. I mean, yeah, I guess some bible thumper could get wind of it and rile people up, but again, they'd have to be someone who's only against alpha/alpha couples. It'll be fine. I think I'm more worried just about people being general assholes. Betas won't be a big problem, but random alphas and omegas might give us shit in public."

"But again, we've both been with men before, so that's not exactly an earthshaking development."

Dean snorts. "True. I dunno, you should probably get a better feel for what it might do for your career, but I think other than that it wouldn't be anything we couldn't handle."

"I agree. All right, I will cross that off the list…"

"It feels a little weird to go down a list like this instead of just, like… talking."

"It does," Castiel sighs, "but honestly, if there is something that's an absolute dealbreaker for us, I'd rather find out now so that we don't start to expect something we can't have. I like you, Dean, and I think I'd like to try to remain friends with you no matter what, but if that's all it can ever be then I want be clear about that as early on as possible."

"Yeah, I get it," Dean says. "If nothing else, we don't want our hormones freaking out any more than necessary. You think we can be friends, though? I mean—sorry, that sounds bad. I like you too, Cas, and yeah, I'd love to stay friends, but it's just… if we don't want to mate, we can't ever meet."

"Many friendships are mostly or entirely online these days. We'd have to work out how to avoid each other in Lawrence no matter what, and it would be easier if we were still in regular communication. I think it would at least be worth trying."

"True. Hey, not something we need to worry about yet, though, right? We got anything happy on that list? This conversation's kind of a downer."

He's right, somehow even though they're talking about the fact that they want to remain friends, which seems like a good thing, there's something melancholy about it. As if they both already know that even if they're only friends now, if it turns out that that's all they can ever be it will come as a disappointment. Castiel can't help but be annoyed—he shouldn't already miss something that he _might_ want and _might_ be denied in the future, especially when he'd get to keep what he's already perfectly happy with. It's got to be the hormones again, convincing him that he _shouldn't_ just be happy being friends with Dean, which is ridiculous.

"I suppose for some topics, whether it's happy or not depends on whether we agree on it," he says, looking at his paper. For some reason, he's nervous bringing this up. "We didn't discuss this before, but I added it to the list on my own… What are your thoughts on children?"

"Oh. Yeah, I guess we should definitely talk about that, huh? I mean, we wouldn't exactly be able to make our own babies."

"Would that bother you? Do you even want children?" Castiel tries not to let his own answer color his tone, so as not to lead Dean.

"Yeah, I do, actually." Dean's voice is softer, hesitant. "I definitely want kids. That, uh. That's probably a dealbreaker for me. But I don't really give a shit where they come from. Ah fuck, that sounds like we'd go buy 'em at a pet store. I just mean I'm cool with adopting."

Castiel's breath had caught when Dean said it was a dealbreaker, thinking he might mean having biological children. The relief that floods him when Dean clarifies only further irks him—again, it shouldn't be a _relief_. He's not _hoping_ for more here. His body might be, but _Castiel_ is perfectly happy being friends. But he laughs at the pet store comment and his momentary annoyance passes.

"I'd like to have children, too," he says quietly. "And I'm also fine with adopting."

There's a pause, both of them letting the knowledge settle in, the fact that they've just knocked down one more barrier to being together despite not even knowing if that's what they want.

Dean finally breaks the silence.

"Well, awesome," he says, sounding a bit more cheerful. "So, hey, we don't have to rule anything out yet."

"Indeed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There are now spoilers in the comments of this chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

A couple of days later, Jo starts taking over Dean's office to conduct the interviews. He manages to meet each of the interviewees briefly, and definitely forms some immediate opinions. Like, for example, some guy named Ed who is clearly pretty damn sure he could run a bookstore better than Dean despite having no experience.

"Look," Ed says conspiratorially when Jo steps away, leaving them alone for a minute. "I can tell you're probably looking to hire someone to train up for management, so you can cut some dead weight." He glances toward Jo in an exaggerated manner, and doesn't seem to notice that Dean's unimpressed face has become a scowl. "I know I don't have managerial experience _per se_ , but I ran an extremely successful Kickstarter campaign for my webseries last year. We raised over a thousand dollars for new camera equipment. I can definitely apply that kind of business acumen here."

Jo tears up his application the moment he's out the door.

"He spent half the interview explaining what we're 'doing wrong.' I kinda zoned out after a while."

On the other hand, he immediately likes Jody, which isn't surprising since she came on a recommendation from Bobby. She's just moved to Lawrence from Sioux Falls, knows Bobby from when he lived up there back before he and Aunt Ellen got together. She was the sheriff there, but then her husband and son got killed and she had to take down their murderer, and she decided she'd enforced enough laws for one lifetime. Now she's starting over in Lawrence, trying to figure out what her next career should be.

Others, he can't quite get a read on and has to rely on Jo's assessment. Ava, for example. She recently moved to Lawrence from Peoria, where she was a secretary, because her fiance had a job offer here. She seems perfectly nice, but when Dean asks what she likes to do for fun and she starts talking about the sports leagues she's joined at the local Y, she starts to give off a weirdly competitive vibe that creeps Dean out a little. But then she goes right back to being nice and normal, so he's not sure if it was just his imagination.

Then there's Marie, a high school senior. She becomes the first actual hire when Dean offers her the job basically on the spot, after just a quick conference with Jo. Kevin recommended her as a fellow overachiever, and Jo confirms this assessment based on the interview. But Dean has to admit that that's not _really_ why he hired her.

Dean's told Cas about his plan to cut back his hours some, and Castiel is, in Dean's opinion, overly impressed by Dean's work ethic. This was still back when the hormones were raging, so Dean had also immediately blurted out how it wasn't because he's a diligent worker, it's just that so many people in his life died or moved away and he filled their empty spots with work instead of a new social life. Castiel was skeptical, and since has taken every opportunity to point out the sacrifices Dean makes for his store. He appreciates the thought, even if it's clearly just the hormones making Cas want to be extra nice to him.

"Kevin sent her to us, he had some AP classes with her last year and says she's all smart and responsible and shit like him," he tells Cas a few hours after hiring Marie. "And Jo said she did great in the interview, might be a little anal but that's not a bad thing if she can focus it on organizing books. But the _real_ reason I hired her is that apparently she's so obsessed with the Supernatural books that she wrote a friggin' musical about 'em, and she's trying to get her school to let her direct it this spring before she graduates. That's my kinda girl right there."

"She wrote what?"

"Have you heard of the series Supernatural? It's this horror series by Carver Edlund, they've been going forever, there's gotta be like fifty of 'em by now."

"Yes," Castiel says slowly, "I've… heard of them."

"Man, I got the whole series. They're a little pulpy so they're kind of a guilty pleasure, but when I was Marie's age, shit. I think I read all twentywhatever books that were out then in one summer. You don't know how many times I've contacted the publisher or Edlund's agent to try to get him in for a signing, but the dude's like a total recluse, never does public appearances. I don't think Carver Edlund's even his real name, who knows who he is or where he lives."

"It's not his real name." Cas sounds distinctly amused, and Dean raises an eyebrow.

"So, what, you know his real name? Oh, please tell me it's like Jonathan Franzen or someone who doesn't want anyone to know he's writing something so lowbrow."

"I don't know if I should tell you," Cas teases, laughing. "I tell you, you tell Marie, she tells her thousand followers on Tumblr and pretty soon the entire internet knows."

"Oh, come on, you know I won't tell. And what the hell is Tumblr?"

"You don't want to know, trust me."

There's a pause, and Dean lets the silence stretch out for a minute.

"So are you gonna tell me or not? Don't leave me hanging here, Cas!"

Castiel sighs. "Carver Edlund's real name is Chuck Shurley."

Dean's eyes fly wide open, and he nearly drops the beer he just retrieved to drink with his dinner.

"Chuck _Shurley_? Your _stepdad_? Your stepdad, the one who writes _children's_ books, also writes Supernatural? You're shittin' me." He plops down into an armchair, the frozen pizza cooling in the kitchen forgotten.

"I'm not. He originally used the pen name because he _thought_ he'd be one of those literary novelists who wouldn't want anyone to know that back in the late '70s he supported his family with pulp horror. But then they kind of took off, developed a cult following. He never finished his great Pulitzer-winning novel, lost interest in it because by then he was having too much fun writing Supernatural. Then Gabe begged him to write something for us, because we weren't allowed to read Supernatural until we were in high school, so he started writing the middle grades stuff and the picture books under his own name. I'm sure he'll gladly do a signing of those for you. He's not really a recluse, he just feels like there's this whole mythology built up now around the Edlund persona and he doesn't want to spoil that."

"Holy shit. You're not joking, are you? Wait, can you lie to me now? 'Cause I don't think I could lie to you without getting a stomachache, but if I were trying to get me into bed this is totally the kind of lie I'd tell."

Cas laughs, and suddenly Dean wants to see it. He _really_ wants to see Cas laughing.

"I'm sure I _could_ lie to you, but yes, there would probably be mild physical repercussions. If you ever meet him, you can ask him yourself if you don't believe me."

"Aw, thinking about taking me home to meet the family, Cas?"

"Now, I didn't say _that_ ," Cas says, overly casual. "You own a bookstore, he's an author, I'm sure you'll run into him eventually."

Dean would give anything to see the teasing smirk that's almost certainly gracing Castiel's face right now.

Then he has the best idea he's had since… well, since hiring Marie earlier today, at the very least.

"Hey, do you have Skype?" He blurts out the question before he even realizes what he's saying.

Cas is clearly thrown off balance by the sudden change in topic.

"…Yes? Why?"

The rest of Dean's brain finally catches up with the part that had the great idea, and he realizes how weird that sounds.

"Shit. Uh… Yeah, I think this might be a hormone thing, actually, because it kinda… Kinda hit me really hard out of nowhere, y'know?" He can feel himself blushing as he starts to feel downright stupid about this request. "Look, I just… really want to see you, okay? Like, with my eyes. Sorry, I know how dumb that sounds."

"No! No, it sounds like an excellent idea." Cas actually sounds excited about it, and that gets Dean kinda psyched, too. "Why didn't we think of that before?"

"Well, I'm just generally an idiot, I dunno what your excuse is." Dean is already sitting down at his computer as he answers.

"Dean, could we please get through one conversation without your feeling the need to insult my mate?"

Dean isn't even sure what's got him more flustered—Cas referring to him as his mate, or Cas… what, defending his honor? Calling him on his self-derogatory bullshit? Caring what he thinks of himself?

"C'mon, dude, not your mate," he mumbles, deflecting to the less alarming of the two options so that he doesn't have to think about the other one.

"Of course you are. Technically." To Dean's relief, Cas's tone is flippant. "And sometimes I worry that you actually believe the things you say about yourself. What's your Skype name?"

Dean honestly can't tell if Cas is purposefully changing the subject, or if he sees his own statements as such unremarkable asides that technically they're still talking about Skype. Either way, Dean just goes with it, and a couple of minutes later Cas pops up on his computer screen. They both still have their phones to their ears.

"I'm online now," Castiel says to both the phone and the computer.

"Yeah, I get that," Dean says with a snort.

"I'm gonna hang up now," Cas continues, squinting at the computer like he's not quite sure it's working properly. Dean nods, kind of distracted by the fact that he can _see Cas_ , and they both hang up. Dean futzes around with the Skype window to get it as big as he can without making the picture too blurry. 

"Dude, I can see you!"

Cas laughs, and yes, getting to actually see it definitely soothes something hormonal deep inside of Dean. But it's also just nice, because when Cas smiles his whole face crinkles up and he goes from hot to adorable. Dean could definitely get used to looking at that, spontaneous scent bond or no.

"So what were we talking about?" Cas asks, still smiling. He's clearly as pleased as Dean is, and that does funny things to Dean's insides.

"Uh… right, you were going to introduce me to your stepdad who _happens_ to be the Clark Kent version of one of my favorite authors."

Cas rolls his eyes. "If you are expecting anything remotely like either Clark Kent or Superman, you are going to be wildly disappointed if you ever meet Chuck Shurley."

"Can't fly, huh? That sucks. Does he even wear glasses or hang out in phone booths?"

"He does wear glasses for reading," Castiel offers. "But even so, I think he'd need some Xanax before you could make any comparisons to Clark Kent."

Dean laughs. "High strung?"

"A bit. A good match for my mother, at least. Though she's less anxious and more just…" He pauses, looking for the right word—or maybe just one that is honest but not insulting. "Excitable. It's obvious where Gabriel gets his hyperactivity."

"Man, your family sounds like a hoot. How the hell did someone as laid-back as you come out of a house like that?"

Cas grimaces. "Coping mechanism?"

Dean laughs at that, but he notices as Cas ducks his head a little, eyes flitting up to the screen as his comic grimace settles into something more hesitant.

"Speaking of families," Cas finally mutters, his voice as hesitant as his expression, "there's something I should really tell you."

Dean's eyebrows pull together. "What's up?"

Cas sighs, then leans his head on one hand, elbow braced agains the table out of sight of the camera. "There's a reason I'm especially reluctant to trust a spontaneous scent bond. Honestly, even if one of us had been an omega I might have run."

"I was kinda wondering if there was more to that story," Dean admits. "I mean, like I said, the whole concept is a little freaky to me, too, but you said something about being terrified of having one for years."

Cas shrugs with his free shoulder. "Long story short, my parents had a spontaneous scent bond. My mother and my biological father."

Dean sits up a little straighter, his eyebrows shooting up. "Shit. And your dad ran out on her, right?"

"Yes. And I absolutely understand that they are a statistical anomaly, part of maybe five percent of spontaneous scent bonds that don't result in lifelong blood bonds." He sits up, looking lost. "Rationally, I understand that, but…"

"But your dad ran out on you, so of course you're gonna be a little freaked about it."

"I certainly don't want my parents' experiences to dictate my life any more than I want pheromones to," he reassures Dean. "I have no intention of making any permanent decisions out of that fear. But it's there, nonetheless."

"Yeah, that's totally understandable, man." Dean wishes he could reach through the screen and… hug Cas? Or maybe just give him a bracing pat on the shoulder. "D'you… I dunno, have any idea what happened there?"

"Obviously, I was too young to remember, and even Gabriel really has only the vaguest memories of our father. But I certainly went through a phase as a teenager when I hounded my mother for every detail, other family members as well. And Gabriel thinks he's pieced together more of it now that he's gone to med school."

Dean startles. "Med school?"

Cas nods, his expression smoothing out from fear and worry to something more matter-of-fact. Focusing on the facts of the situation is clearly more comfortable to him than talking about their effect on him.

"Apparently their bond was strange from the start. It was obvious to everyone who knew them that they simply _weren't_ compatible in the way you're supposed to be to trigger a spontaneous scent bond. In the initial hormone haze, they didn't care much, but as time wore on, whatever they'd thought was love at first faded quickly. It became clear that they didn't even particularly enjoy being around each one another. As I've said, my mother is..." He has a fond smile on his face as he tries to describe her. "She's one of the most cheerful people I've ever met, and passionate, she throws herself into everything she does one hundred and ten percent. It can be a bit much, to be honest, but she always means well. Apparently my father was nothing like her, and not in the sort of way that would complement her. He was very straightlaced, serious, no sense of humor. I'm sure that the information I have is biased given that it comes from my mother's family, but overall I think I'm lucky to have been raised by Chuck instead."

"Huh," Dean says when Cas finally pauses. "How the fuck does that happen?"

"That's where Gabriel's medical training comes in," Cas explains. "This is purely conjecture on our parts, because obviously we'd have to track down my father for medical testing to confirm it. But at some point in finding out what we could about our father, we learned that as a teenager, just a year or two before meeting my mother, he'd had a very serious case of meningitis. He nearly died. As it happens, meningitis can, in rare cases, damage the pituitary gland and cause it to stop producing certain hormones or produce too few of them. Again, we don't know for sure, but it's definitely _possible_ that if he wasn't producing enough of one or more bonding hormones…"

"His pheromones would be fucked up, and he'd react to the wrong ones in your mom, and boom, spontaneous scent bond that never shoulda been." Dean shakes his head. "Holy crap, man. I wonder how many broken SSBs are because of shit like that."

"On the up side, if most or all are the result of medical issues, then that means that if your body is producing hormones as it should, spontaneous scent bonds are even closer to one hundred percent accuracy." Cas shrugs. "So, again, rationally it _should_ be reassuring."

"Well, yeah, I mean, if nothing else I don't think we have the exact same problem they did, right?" Dean shifts uncomfortably, but he's pretty sure about this. "I mean, we get along fine. We're friends. Right?"

Cas's head tilts to one side. "Of course. I've told you before, whatever else does or doesn't happen between us, I hope we can stay friends. Whatever happens, I'm glad to have met you, Dean."

Dean can't help the smile that takes over his face at that. "Yeah, you too, man. We might have problems or whatever, but I don't think just straight up not liking each other is gonna be one of them."

Cas nods, mirroring Dean's smile. "I don't think so, either."

They sit there, just grinning at each other, for just long enough. Not quite long enough for it to get awkward, but _just_ long enough for it to hit Dean—he _does_ like Cas. Like, _like_ likes him. If the situation were different, he still wouldn't be running off to marry the guy, but… he'd kinda like to take him out to dinner, cuddle up to him on a couch watching a movie. That would be cool.

He doesn't linger on it, and the conversation picks back up after a moment. But later that night, when he's in bed, after he's let Cas star in his fantasies for the night like he _always_ does these days because hormones or no the guy is fucking _sexy_ , the idea comes back to him. He can't help thinking that it's a little pathetic that he's developing a crush on his freaking _mate_ , but it's not like it's a shock—hot guy, good friends, not a stretch to think that a few romantic feelings are gonna spark there.

That's probably not _just_ hormones, right? He genuinely likes Cas _and_ is genuinely attracted to him, so he doesn't need bonding hormones to kinda wish they could go out and see where this might lead.

But his thoughts pretty much immediately race from a few dates to happily ever after, and he's pretty damn sure that _is_ the bonding hormones. He rolls over with a sigh, and tries to think about something— _anything_ —else until he falls asleep.

—

They don't Skype every night, but over the next week or so it definitely becomes a regular thing. They don't always have time, particularly Dean; while Cas is finishing up his final tour dates, he's scrambling to figure out how he's going to transition the store to his new schedule.

Kevin leaves for Princeton, and they have a going-away party for him after close one night. The new hires are invited, too. In the end, instead of three part-timers Dean wound up hiring Marie part time and Jody full time. It's a little bit of a stretch to give her the same benefits Jo, Garth, and he himself get as full-timers, but doable. And at the party he can see that both Jody and Marie are going to fit in with the rest of the staff just fine.

He works it so that there's a little over a week of overlap, when he's working his old hours even as Jody and Marie start, to try and smooth the transition. He and Jo split the training duties, but he finds himself getting more worn out than usual after a day of work nonetheless. Soon he's actually looking forward to working fewer hours.

He's glad to have Cas in his life, a close friend who neither works for him nor is related to him (or both, in Jo's case). They text throughout the day, and the conversations keep him going (as does the prospect of talking to Cas on the phone or Skype after work, because _pathetic crush_ ). Cas bitches about travel or strange fans, he bitches about customers or his employees (who are, for the most part, taking the changes like champs, but Jo is a little stressed, Marie is a little strong-willed, and Jody has only so much patience for either of them). 

They start trading funny childhood stories to cheer each other up; Dean tells Cas about the time he fell asleep in the corner of the store room and his parents had called the police by the time his grandpa found him, while he learns that Gabriel is the one who got Cas into sci-fi by dragging him to Star Trek conventions as a pre-teen.

Dean gives in to temptation and flirts occasionally. But every time Cas flirts back, he gets flustered and abandons it. Cas never seems to initiate the flirtation, and Dean isn't quite sure if he's disappointed or relieved by that.

The days fly by, and a week and a half is gone before Dean even registers its passing.

"Today's the last stop on my tour," Cas dives in as soon as Dean picks up the phone. "I fly back to Pontiac tomorrow. And I'm scheduled to move this weekend. We've got to… well. Make some kind of decision."

Dean scrubs a hand over his face. Fuck, he doesn't want to think about this, but Cas is right.

"You wanna get on Skype? I'd rather talk about this face to face."

"Yes, give me a minute to get my laptop set up."

They hang up the phone, and Dean inhales a slice of his pizza while he waits for Cas to get online. A few minutes later, his computer screen is filled with blue eyes and dark hair and _ah, fuck_ , Cas clearly hasn't shaved in a couple days and Dean is a complete sucker for all that scruff. He likes that he can't get caught staring over Skype.

"So, yeah. You're getting here Saturday?"

"The plan is for me to get in Saturday night, and hopefully the moving company will arrive with my things on Sunday."

"And classes start Monday? Aren't you cutting it a little close?"

"I've been living out of suitcases for weeks now, I can manage for a few more days if the movers are slow." 

Dean realizes how tired Cas looks. "Yeah, but it'll be nice not to, right?"

"Indeed. Unpacking all of my belongings won't be the most relaxing way to spend the first couple of weeks of class, but it's got to be better than this."

"Man, I'm sorry I can't help you move. I'm your one friend in a new town, that's like my sacred duty. You provide pizza and beer, I help you lug your mattress up the stairs."

Cas shifts in his chair, looks at Dean uncertainly. "Well, that's what we need to decide, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess so."

They look at each other for a minute. Castiel looks as uncertain and unhappy as Dean feels.

"Dude—"

"I—" They start at the same time, then laugh uncomfortably.

Dean puts his face in his hands. "You first." He waves one hand in Cas's general direction.

"I like you, Dean." Dean ventures a look up. Cas's face is a picture of sincerity. "And I don't want to cut off all communication with you. But I can't—I don't know if… I'm not ready for the type of commitment we'd be making by meeting."

Dean shrugs, smiling softly. "Me too, man. I like you, yeah. I like you a lot. It freaking sucks that I can't just hang out with you like any of my other friends. At least, not without our bodies freaking the fuck out and trying to marry us off like an overeager great-aunt." Castiel laughs, a full laugh that tilts his head back and shakes his shoulders, and Dean can't help but smile as he watches. "Or fuck, I wish we could date! Y'know, that thing normal people do when they find someone attractive that they like to talk to?"

Cas tilts his head, considering. They may have only talked over Skype a few times, but it's already a familiar gesture. "I agree," he finally says. "If I could buy you dinner, spend an evening talking with you over a bottle of wine, and then take you home with me, all without worrying that we'd end the night with a blood bond, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

Dean feels a strange sense of anticipation. "Take me home, huh? You got high hopes for our first date."

Something about this feels dangerous. Their conversations have occasionally dipped into this sort of territory, ever since their original confessions, but it's always just a quick comment and then they're back on track like it never happened. And they've never said anything remotely risque over Skype, when they're looking right at each other. They don't even flirt on Skype.

The smile that creeps over Castiel's face is downright wolfish, and a chill goes down Dean's spine. "Are you saying that if we met, and there was no biological urge trying to force us into a commitment, you wouldn't come home with me at the drop of a hat?"

"You tryin' to say you think I'm easy, Cas?" Dean tries for flippant, but he's far too aroused for it to work. He resists the urge to adjust himself in his jeans, which are starting to feel tight. And then—

"I think for me you would be." Cas looks right into his camera as he says it, so that on Dean's screen it looks like Cas is looking right into his eyes. And that _voice_ oh dear god. Cas doesn't even sound teasing anymore; if they were in the same room, Dean is pretty sure he'd be getting shoved against a wall or held down on a bed right now.

"Fuck," Dean breathes, and he can't argue, can't look away. The hormones from the scent bond are still there, but weak enough now that Dean knows this isn't because of them. They can't smell each other. This is just pure lust, and if Cas wants to push this Dean is helpless to stop him.

"Do you still think about me when you touch yourself, Dean?"

Dean is nodding before he even realizes it, before he finally finds his voice. "Yeah. Shit, yeah, every night. You're fucking hot, and you know I don't want anyone else. Fuck, I _can't_ want anyone else right now."

"I know. I'm the same way. I decided a long time ago not to bother fighting that part of this experience. Why not get what enjoyment we can out of it? Besides, I think after meeting you in your store, I probably would have been thinking about you for weeks afterwards even without the help of the bonding hormones. My imagination can do a lot with such an incredibly attractive man." Cas still has that smile on his face, like he's going to reach through the screen and devour Dean. Maybe he will. Maybe Dean would let him.

"Oh yeah? What do you think woulda happened that day, Cas?" Dean's voice drops, and he knows there's no going back now. "Maybe you woulda hung around Lawrence a little longer, I woulda got off work early, we'd meet at a bar and head back to my place? Would you have let me suck you off? Is that what you think about, my head between your knees?"

Cas groans and closes his eyes. His hands have been on the arms of his chair until now, but one moves down where Dean can't see it.

"You have no idea, Dean." His eyes snap back open, and Dean is transfixed. "Yes, I've thought about you kneeling in front of me, taking me into your mouth, sucking me down. And I've thought about doing it to you, wondered how much come you'd shoot down my throat with that knot of yours." Dean lets out a whine, and he can't help it anymore. He opens his jeans and sticks one hand inside, palming himself through his boxers. "And I've thought about fucking you, _god_ have I thought about fucking you, Dean. In bed, over a table, against the wall in the shower."

"Fuck, Cas." Dean is starting to stroke in earnest now. "Oh, fuck. You wanna get your knot in me? Loosen me up real good and get it all the way in there, make me come on it?"

Cas nods, his eyes falling closed again for a few seconds. Dean can see his arm moving, working himself, and Dean lets out a little whimper. " _Dean_ , god, yes, Dean. I'd take you from behind, fuck you until you're right on the edge. Then push my knot in, nice and slow, while I reach around and work yours with my hand until you come all over the place, until you squeeze around me and milk the come out of me."

"Oh, fuck yes, Cas. Shit. I've never had a knot in my ass before, but fuck I want yours in there, you know that? God, I wanna feel you fuck me… Fuck, fuck Cas, I'm close—"

"Me too, me too, Dean. _Dean_." Cas moans his name like a fucking porn star, and Dean can't see his dick but he can see the come spurting up and onto his shirt, and that tips Dean right over, one hand working his knot for all it's worth while the other hand slips around his head, gasping his mate's name.

They sit there for a minute, catching their breaths. When Dean opens his eyes, he finds Cas already watching him.

"Shit, Cas, did we just make this more complicated?"

Castiel shrugs, looking only mildly concerned. "Not necessarily. We both already knew that was happening. And if we _could_ go on dates and have sex like a normal couple trying to decide whether they want to spend their lives together, we would. This might actually be the most normal thing we could have done. The closest we can come to what we _should_ be able to do, if our bodies didn't interfere."

"So what are we gonna do now? We both agree that we're not ready for a blood bond, but we don't wanna stop talking. And… other stuff, apparently." He smirks at Castiel, who just rolls his eyes as if _he_ wasn't the one who started this little Skype sex thing.

"I suppose we just continue as we have been," Cas says. "Just because I'm moving to Lawrence doesn't mean we're required to choose one extreme or the other. You avoid campus, I'll avoid the neighborhood your store is in. We shouldn't know each other's addresses, because if one of us for some reason gets overwhelmed by the hormones and shows up unexpectedly, the other might not be able to control his response. But perhaps at least show each other what areas to avoid."

Dean nods. "I'm cool with that. The whole deadline thing has always made me a little nervous anyhow, y'know? Like, if we don't want our hormones making decisions for us, why would we want some arbitrary date making the decision either?"

"Exactly. We should take as much time as we feel we need."

"So, uh." Dean shifts a little, suddenly uncomfortable in a way he almost never is with Cas. I mean, they just jacked off with each other and immediately afterward he didn't feel at all uncomfortable. "Where does this… I mean, y'know, _this_ ," he holds up a come-covered hand, "leave us? I mean, I'm not trying to have some big relationship talk, I just wanna make sure we're on the same page, 'cause given the weird situation I could see this getting messy if we're not."

"I—I don't know." Cas sighs, shaking his head. "In a way, we've been in a committed relationship since the moment we met, given that neither of us has any desire whatsoever to be with anyone else right now. But that's all hormonal, and we don't have to do what the hormones say any more in that than in anything else. We haven't called it a relationship before now, we still don't have to."

"Yeah. I get that, and I totally agree. I just…" He looks down at his hand. "Not sure I can just call you a friend?"

"Friends with benefits?"

Dean grins. "Works for me. Committed friends with benefits, which is a little weird."

"I… suppose most would call that a relationship."

"Probably, yeah. But most aren't trying to deal with the shit we're dealing with right now, so screw 'em. Friends with benefits. Who just happen to not be interested in anyone else at the moment."

"I need to go change my shirt and then find dinner. I'm glad we talked about this, Dean. I'll admit I feel more comfortable without a deadline for our decision."

"Me, too. And I'm glad we got your shirt dirty, too."

—

"You're 'friends with benefits.' With your freaking _mate_. Your mate you haven't been anywhere near in a month but talk to and text pretty much constantly." Charlie does not look impressed.

"Stop callin' him my mate," Dean grumbles, shoving a fry into his mouth. "Look, we're both happy with leaving things like this for now, okay? Yeah, we both wish we could hang out and go on dates—"

"And get it on for real," Charlie cuts in, wiggling her eyebrows.

"That too, yeah. But we can't do that—"

"Except you could, and just enjoy your scent bond like everyone else."

" _No_. That's not what either of us wants right now. You know that, dude, stop it."

"Sorry, you're right." Charlie does look chastened as she reaches out for her shake. "And I get it. I guess I wouldn't really want to hitch myself permanently to a total stranger just because they smelled good, either. Not even a dreamy, _talented_ total stranger—"

"I get it, okay? Cas is awesome. I agree. That's why I wanna keep talking to him, be friends with him."

"With _benefits_."

"I shouldn't have even told you that." Dean throws a french fry at Charlie, who pops it in her mouth.

"Of course you should have, I'm your best friend." She bites her lip and shrugs her shoulders up to her ears, wiggling in such a way that Dean knows exactly what's coming. "But not for lo-ong!" she sing-songs.

"Ah, c'mon, Red, you'll always be my best friend. Cas could never be as annoying as you. Maybe he can be my other, non-annoying best friend, though." As he finishes off his burger, Dean thinks that yeah, that might actually be possible.


	8. Chapter 8

It's a seven-hour drive from Pontiac, Illinois to Lawrence, Kansas. Dean has mentioned several times how much he likes road trips, and both of them have lamented that he can't be there with Cas for this one, but Castiel doesn't really feel the loss until about two hours in, when the Illinois landscape is starting to get really boring.

He's had to drive some on his press tour—stops in towns too close to fly between, or where there's only one nearby airport to begin with. But not seven hours at a stretch. He hasn't driven that far in years, and possibly never by himself. He and Gabriel used to take road trips around the midwest when he was in college and Gabe was in medical school, but that was a lifetime ago.

Now that he's out here, alone with his own head, he has to admit to himself that it isn't just that he's driving alone. He really does wish that Dean, specifically, were with him. It's frustrating that he can't sort out how much of that is because of hormones and how much is because he genuinely likes Dean. He meant it when he said he'd be interested in dating if the situation were different. Dean is handsome, funny, hard-working, humble (to a fault), and seems to be a loyal friend and family member, which Castiel imagines would translate to being a devoted boyfriend. And now that Castiel knows what kind of sounds he makes when he comes, well… it may be hormones making him appreciate that, but he doesn't think it's _bonding_ hormones.

Yet he can't fully trust himself, because he knows that the bonding hormones _are_ still having an effect, sometimes a strong one. It may have been Dean's idea to start Skypeing, but it satisfies some urge deep down in Castiel that he knows isn't just an appreciation for looking at a pretty face. Worse, he has no idea whether being able to see Dean might actually be _raising_ his hormone levels.

The problem with trying to research this information online is that nobody actually does what they're doing—people who experience a spontaneous scent bond tend to either mate immediately or (very rarely) run screaming in the other direction and never contact the other person again. Neither Google nor WebMD seems to know the answer to the question "After a spontaneous scent bond has been established without a blood bond, what types of contact affect levels of bonding hormones?" Not even Gabriel can help here.

The upshot being, Castiel has no idea if his car feels so empty because Dean would be fun to have along, or because his body thinks that being enclosed in a small space with Dean's pheromones is an absolutely excellent idea. He suspects it may be a bit from column A and a bit from column B.

Speaking of things that may or may not freak out his hormones, there's always what's waiting at the end of the seven-hour drive. He truly is glad that he and Dean have decided not to decide about their relationship yet, but one result is that for the foreseeable future Castiel will be living in the same city as his mate without actually being able to be near him. Another situation whose hormonal impact he has no way to predict, and on which the internet is apparently silent.

Any time he remembers their decision not to decide yet, he feels muscles he didn't even know were tense loosen as a rush of relief runs through him. At the same time, though, his stomach churns at the idea that he will be so close yet unable to touch Dean, even though the same reptile part of his brain is thrilled that he will be anywhere near Dean at all. These reactions are usually soon followed by a spike in his heartrate as he is simultaneously terrified and excited by the idea that they could accidentally bump into each other somewhere in Lawrence and lose control. Over the past week he's generally repeated this cycle at least two or three times at some point in the day; with little else to think about on the drive, he seems to be stuck in a loop.

Finally, he realizes that another five hours of this merry-go-round is going to drive him insane and he does what he really should have done before leaving: he pulls off the highway at the next exit and searches for the nearest bookstore. Which, of course, is twenty minutes behind him in Springfield. With a growl, he decides _fuck it_ , it's not like he has to be in Kansas at any specific time that night.

To Dean: _Probably getting in an hour later than planned, jsyk._

From Dean: _What happened? Traffic?_

To Dean: _No, just bored out of my mind._

To Dean: _So I'm taking a detour, backtracking twenty minutes to buy an audio book._

To Dean: _Which is probably a massive overreaction to the situation, I realize_.

From Dean: _You could just put me on speaker phone and I'll talk dirty to you. ;)_

To Dean: _NOT. HELPFUL._

—

A few days ago, Cas got an unexpected call from an unfamiliar Lawrence phone number, neither Dean's cell nor the store. It turned out to be Charlie, calling with an offer he couldn't refuse.

Now he calls her again to let her know that the moving company is claiming they will be right on time, delivering his belongings in an hour, around 2pm. Within a half an hour she and Garth are enthusiastically giving Castiel completely unsolicited decorating advice as he shows them around the house. Jo is on the tour as well, but she doesn't seem to be interested in suggesting paint colors or debating where his couch should go.

Dean had told his entire staff about their situation earlier in the week. There was a decent enough chance that one of them would run into him somewhere around town, especially since both Jody and Garth were taking classes at KU. If they recognized him, particularly Garth or Jo after having met him at the signing, and tried to talk him into doing another event or just coming by the store, it would be awkward to refuse without a good explanation, especially if it happened more than once. Easier to just make sure they all understood what was happening and then swear them all to secrecy on their jobs' graves.

So now that they knew, Charlie decided that she, Jo, and Garth were responsible for being Castiel's welcoming committee (Jody and Marie not really having known Dean long enough to be conscripted into unpaid labor on his behalf, in addition to needing someone besides Dean to man the store that afternoon). He'd tried to insist that it was unnecessary, but as it wasn't hard to see that she intended this as a welcome to the family as much as a welcome the city, he'd given in easily. 

And now Charlie and Garth are on his back deck, making grand plans for lawn furniture. He leaves them to it, ducking back inside, and Jo follows him. He can feel her narrowed eyes boring into the back of his head, so he leans on the kitchen counter, facing her.

"Would you like something to drink? I have water, Coke, or beer."

"I'm good," she says. She leans her back against the wall opposite him, then slides down until she's sitting on the floor with her knees tucked up in front of her, still watching him. She's small, but over the past fifteen minutes he's already gotten the impression that she would find a way to kick his ass if she wanted to. Her position on the floor below him somehow only makes her more intimidating, when it seems like it should have the opposite effect. "You know I'm Dean's cousin, right?"

"Yes, he said your mothers are sisters."

"I could give you the usual line about breaking your bones if you break his heart, but I'm pretty sure you'll hear it from both Charlie and Sam eventually," she says, then smirks. "I, on the other hand, am going to make a far more frightening threat."

He opens his mouth, but really has no reply, so just closes it again and nods.

"Dean is an _awesome_ guy. That store is his life, and he puts everything he's got into it, but even so he never, ever, _ever_ fails to be there for the people he loves if they need it. He probably won't even tell you about the shit he does, because he doesn't even think it's anything special. 

"My dad died when I was a kid, Dean was in high school. He became my fucking big brother. For like two years he was there for everything my dad had to miss, softball games, elementary school graduation, my first fucking period. I don't think my mom even knows how much he did, 'cause she was dealing with it in her own way. Once Bobby came into our life, he pulled back some, he let Bobby start filling that role for me. But you better fucking believe that if I—or Charlie, or Sam, or Benny, or any of his employees—needed anything, absolutely anything, even if we didn't ask him for it, that man would move heaven and earth."

Castiel has been listening intently, and now he shakes his head. "I'm not the least bit surprised. You know I haven't known him long, but it's obvious how deeply he cares and the lengths he'll go to for his loved ones. And it's just as obvious that he has no idea what kind of an impact he has."

Jo raises an eyebrow, though one corner of her mouth also comes up approvingly. "Point being, I'm the only one in the family who knows about all this shit right now, and I'm the only one who's met you. My parents, his parents, Sam and Jess—when it comes to you, they'll believe me over Dean's hormone-addled ass any day. So you don't worry about breaking his heart just yet, Castiel. You worry about what happens if I don't like you, if I don't think you deserve someone like Dean and the kind of absolute love and devotion he'll give you if you're together."

Castiel nods slowly, processing the threat. He has no doubt that it's genuine, or that Jo could easily make his life difficult. Still, he has to smile a little.

"Believe it or not, I am actually gratified to know that Dean has people in his life who appreciate him enough to make a threat like that. I worry a bit, the way he talks about himself." Cas shrugs one shoulder, his brow furrowing in concern. "I don't get the impression that he believes himself worthy of the same care he clearly gives to other people."

Jo gives him a wicked little smile, approving of what he says but still ready to turn on him in a flash if he doesn't continue to meet her standards. The sliding glass door opens, and as Charlie and Garth come inside Jo holds up a hand for Castiel to help her up.

"We heard something that sounded suspiciously like a huge truck pulling up in front of your house," Charlie announces. "Let's haul us some boxes!"

"Don't get too excited," Cas tells her. "They have to get the container thing off the truck bed, then we can start unloading things after they leave."

Charlie gasps, her eyes getting big.

"You got one of those PODS storage things where they leave the whole box here?" She's practically vibrating.

"Yes, if I'd used traditional movers they wouldn't be letting us help unload at all," he points out.

"Sweet!" Charlie takes off for the front door, her voice carrying behind her. "I've always wanted to watch them unload one of those things!"

Jo and Garth watch her go, puzzled.

"I watched them load it onto the truck," Cas explains. "It actually is very impressive."

He nods toward the living room, and the other two follow him through it and to the front door.

Everyone is suitably impressed by the spectacle of the sixteen-foot-long storage container being lifted off the truck bed and deposited in Castiel's driveway via an enormous metal frame on wheels. Charlie surpasses "suitably impressed" by a wide margin, darting around the machinery close enough to piss off the movers a few times while she squeaks and squeals. Castiel has the distinct impression that she is holding herself back from climbing up onto the frame herself.

Once the truck is gone, they get to work. Much of the contents Castiel loaded into it before he left on his book tour over two months ago, and he barely remembers what wound up where. Thankfully, he was scrupulous about labeling every box with its room, so once he's explained to the others which bedroom and bathroom are which and where the family room and office are, it doesn't really matter what order the boxes are unloaded in.

The furniture takes a bit more planning. Gabe had helped him load it in, and they'd done a fairly good job of keeping pieces from the same room together. He had not had both a living room and a family room in his old house, and he's still not sure which pieces should go where and what new things he'll need to buy.

"Ooh!" Charlie looks almost excited as she did about the PODS truck when he explains this. "Let Garth and I handle this. Please?"

He shrugs. "I suppose the worst that happens is I have to move a couch across the house later."

Jo raises an eyebrow as Charlie and Garth dart back into the house to start discussing furniture placement.

"You are one trusting soul," she says, sounding dubious. "Or an idiot, not sure which."

"I suppose it might be both in this instance," he admits. "Since Garth is busy, could you help me carry the mattress upstairs?"

She snorts. "Points for asking at all instead of waiting for the man to get back, but trust me, when it comes to heavy shit I should probably be your first choice with this group."

"Noted," he says, giving her a nod before they set off to pull the mattress out.

As it turns out, Garth and Charlie actually are pretty good at interior design. They even grab some things that were intended for other rooms, and Jo has to stop them from opening a box of decorative knick-knacks before everything's unloaded from the storage container.

Castiel squints thoughtfully at his new living room.

"I would not have considered putting the couch against that wall."

"Well see, this window here is south-facing," Garth explains, pointing to the bay window near the door. "So you're gonna get some pretty intense sun comin' in here, and with the couch over there it's easier to keep it outta your eyes if you're watching TV. By the way, you got any more throw pillows?"

Within a couple of hours, the storage container is empty and Castiel's new house actually looks like someone might live in it. Someone with not quite enough furniture and who likes to keep most of their belongings hidden away in boxes, but someone nonetheless.

Cas is sitting at his kitchen table with pizza, beer, and three people that he might tentatively be able to now call friends. His social skills are not always the best when he's not talking about his writing, but he seems to be getting along as well with Charlie as he did at the signing. Garth seems like he would get along with just about anyone, and Castiel thinks Jo _might_ be giving him a grudging approval. At least, he's pretty sure that's what the arm punch earlier meant.

Suddenly, music starts up. 

"It's Dean!" Charlie exclaims, then pulls her phone out of her pocket as a twangy guitar is quickly replaced by a slow, drawling voice.

"'Sup, yo?" She beams at Cas while Dean answers. "Dude, we're still here. … Yeah, we're just chilling. Cas was about to tell us about the time his brother got banned from a candy store!"

"Tell him about my phone and that I'm sorry," Castiel tells her.

"Oh yeah, if you were trying to get ahold of Cas, he had his phone on silent and we think it got dropped into one of the boxes. I'm sure he'll unpack it eventually." After a pause, she holds her phone out to Castiel, a teasing smile on her face.  "Surprise surprise, he wants to talk to you."

Castiel is a little embarrassed, but Dean _is_ the common denominator between them all, so it's not so strange that he'd want to talk to both him and Charlie.

"Hello, Dean."

"Hey! Dude, you gotta find your phone. Your internet doesn't get turned on for a couple days, does it?"

Castiel sighs. "I know. I'm sure it's here somewhere. I'll look more thoroughly after everyone's gone home."

"So did my employees make it worth my while to give them the afternoon off?"

"They were very helpful, yes. I very much appreciated it." Cas smiles at the other three.

"Awesome. Sucks I couldn't be there." Dean's voice becomes more subdued. "Sucks that my friends get to see you more than I do."

"I know," Cas says quietly, but he doesn't want to continue this conversation in front of the other three. "We'll talk tonight, okay?"

"Yeah, talk to you later. Hand me back to Charlie?"

Charlie takes the phone and listens for a minute. "Yeah, whatever. You're just cranky 'cause we get to hang out with your boyfriend and you don't."

Castiel feels his cheeks warm at the use of the term. He studies his pizza very carefully, aware that Jo is now looking at him.

They've just decided that they're _not_ boyfriends, of course. Friends with benefits. If this were a normal situation, if they were able to date like anyone else and trust that whatever feelings they have are real, maybe that would be different. But it's not, and although part of him (a large part of him, he'll admit) would love to use that term, he isn't entirely sure how much of that is really _him_.

If they were dating normally and he felt the way about Dean that he feels now, he'd most certainly want to be in a committed relationship. But he doesn't know for sure that he _would_ feel the same, and at any rate he certainly wouldn't want a blood bond yet and that's what they're looking at here.

Of course, there is another, deeper part of him that _does_ want a blood bond, right now. He knows for a fact what that part is. It is _certainly_ not something he is going to listen to. He just can't be sure how much it's influencing the rest of him.

At any rate, not boyfriends.

So when Charlie hangs up, he has to say something.

"Charlie," he says gently, "you know we're not—"

"Yeah, yeah." She rolls her eyes and waves him off. "Dean gave me the same line. Sue me, 'boyfriend' is a lot easier to say than 'guy you have a scent bond with but are only slightly-more-than-friends with.'"

He sighs. "Fair enough. So why do you have the Firefly theme song set as Dean's ringtone?"

Charlie perks right up at that. "Don't tell me he hasn't told you about the time I got him to cosplay Mal to my Inara?" At his headshake, she pulls her phone back out. "Photo time, and then you are definitely still on the hook for that candy store story."

—

After they've left (Charlie having extracted a tight hug and a promise to hang out again), Castiel takes stock. He has his first class the next day. He kept everything he needs for school with him, so he doesn't have to unpack to find it all, luckily.

He's nervous as hell about starting classes. He's not sure this was a good idea at all. It's stupid, really, a bestselling author taking writing classes? But the problem is he _can't write_ anymore. Or rather, he can't write anything that isn't about an alien race coming to earth posing as angels. It's literally been _years_ since he wrote so much as a short story that didn't at least look like an _Alien Angels_ knockoff. He's desperate, and the idea to go back to school is kind of a last ditch effort. He's only got the one more book planned for the series, and he may be well-off but not to the point where he can retire at 36.

He's mostly worried about the other students. He's not _that_ well-known outside of science fiction circles, but some of the students are bound to know who he is and wonder why he's there. If he writes something good, they'll think he's showing off. If he writes something bad, they'll tell all their friends how much Castiel Novak sucks, how they think he must use a ghost writer or something for his novels.

Okay, maybe he's blowing this up a bit in his head. But as he starts pulling together syllabi printed out from the web and organizing books by class, he can't help but think that taking a class on 20th century science fiction specifically is probably a very bad idea. Unfortunately, there are two professors out on maternity leave that semester and the resulting course selection was limited.

He's exchanged emails with the professor and been assured that his experience would be a welcome addition, and assured Prof. Devereaux right back that he was very interested in analyzing and discussing the seminal works in the genre. There are certainly many he hasn't read, and since he was a biology major in college, not English, he hasn't ever had a chance to analyze them from a literary perspective. The class itself should be really interesting… but it's probably the place where he'll be most under a microscope. He sort of has the fact that he's an alpha on his side; he has no interest in intimidating people or playing it up, but a lot of people (omegas, but even betas who are reacting subconsciously) do instinctually defer a bit to alphas. Maybe at least most people won't say shit to his face.

He growls to himself and starts digging through boxes for his phone. He's friends with several other authors, some of whom are much more well-known than he is and who deal with this kind of recognition crap all the time. He could call up any one of them and get advice right now.

But he doesn't really want advice. He's starting classes the next day no matter what, he can't predict how people will react, and probably different people will treat him differently. He's certainly dealt with annoying or even aggressive fans before—he tries to keep the cast of his books diverse in terms of race, sex, gender, sexuality, etc, and there is a certain subset of the science fiction readership who takes this as a personal affront to their straight white male status. So he's had hecklers at readings and attacks on social media. So far nothing in terms of people recognizing him in real life, outside of official author events, and saying things to him, but dealing with it in the context of a class can't be that different.

So he feels like calling someone to ask for advice wouldn't really give him much new information anyhow. What he really needs is a distraction. 

He can admit to himself that at the moment, Dean is his favorite distraction.

He finally finds his phone in a box on the kitchen counter, with a dozen or so missed text messages. Several are from Dean, a couple from Gabriel and their parents, and a missed call each from Dean and Hannah.

He texts his family first to let them know his stuff is all unloaded, then calls Dean. Since it's Sunday, the store should be closed by now.

"Hey, you found your phone!"

"I did," Castiel replies, barely noticing the grin that spreads across his face at Dean's voice. "I have no idea how it wound up in a box full of dishes, but that's just sort of how moving works."

"So how'd it go? What'd you think of the mental hospital refugees I call my friends?" Dean sounds like he's trying to sound too nonchalant—had he actually been nervous that Castiel wouldn't like his friends?

"They were wonderful," he says sincerely. "I mean, they would be wonderful just for coming and helping me out, but they stayed for a couple of hours afterward and I had a lot of fun just relaxing and talking to them. Jo threatened me," he adds with a grin, "but that was early in the day, I don't think I'm likely to be murdered in my sleep tonight."

"Jo _what?_ " Dean sputters. "You had better be joking, Cas. She did not."

"Dean, I have only known her for a few hours, and I feel safe in saying that if you've known her all your life you probably already know that the answer to that is, _of course_ she did."

"But, like, jokingly, right? Please tell me she was joking, because you're right, I wouldn't put it past her to actually try to put the fear of god in you."

"I… don't think she was joking," Castiel admits, adding hastily, "but it wasn't with any sort of bodily harm."

"Jesus christ," Dean mutters. "Well just so you know, Charlie adores you. I think she's going to adopt you from the animal shelter and make you sleep at the foot of her bed."

"Make? Don't you mean let?"

"Sounds like the feeling's mutual." Dean sounds amused, but pleased. "I figured. So you ready for the first day of school?"

Castiel winds up telling Dean about his worries, and it's actually nice to get it all out to someone who _won't_ try to give him advice about it.

They get off the phone so that Dean can eat dinner, but Dean calls back at bedtime. They wind up having some pretty spectacular phone sex in bed—he'd still probably rather be able to see Dean come over Skype, but there is definitely something to be said for having that voice held directly to his ear.

As he tries to fall asleep, he grits his teeth against his body's insistence that the bed is too empty, that there should be another body pressed against his.

—

The first few days of classes pass by quickly and uneventfully. He's seen a few people glance his way curiously when his name comes up, but nobody's said a word yet or made him feel unwelcome at all. The one slight exception is Marv, a man in the science fiction class who Castiel swears he's caught glaring at him a couple of times.

His internet finally gets turned on Tuesday, and he and Dean go back to Skypeing that evening. Not for very long, though, as Cas has a lot of reading to do, plus an essay and a story already due by the end of the week.

Dean is starting his own new schedule this week—getting off work at five instead of eight or later, and off both Fridays and Saturdays (Cas almost doesn't want to ask if this is related to the fact that he doesn't have class on Fridays). Unfortunately, Dean being around more in the evenings directly coincides with Cas's new homework load, so they pretty much continue with short Skype sessions when they both get home and sometimes a phone call at bedtime.

Dean seems to be at a loss as to how to fill all that extra time. He's working on his car more, which he's excited about, but that can only fill a few hours a week. When he first mentioned the schedule change, he'd talked about finding a new hobby, but he hasn't settled on one yet. He wants to hang out with his friends Benny and Victor more, but Victor's a police detective who works strange hours and Benny has a wife and two kids, so their schedules are as crazy as Dean's old one was.

Saturday afternoon they're on Skype, but Cas knows that yet again he can't stay on for as long as he'd like.

"I hate to say this," he finally says with a sigh when there's a lull in the conversation, "but—"

"Yeah, yeah," Dean says, leaning back in his chair. "You gotta go read like ten books and write two novels by Monday."

"Close enough, yes." Castiel can't ignore the resigned disappointment in Dean's face and voice. "I'm sorry."

"It's my own fault, I suck at this getting a life thing. It's not your job to keep me entertained, Cas."

"It's not that, I just do wish I could spend more time with you," he says sincerely. He bites his lip, wondering if the idea that just came to mind is perfect or ridiculously awful.

"Are you going anywhere?" he asks tentatively.

Dean snorts. "You ask that like I've got somewhere to go. Sorry, that sounds pathetic and whiny. I just gotta get used to having so much downtime. It's kinda nice, but I feel like I _should_ be working, y'know? So it feels like if I just sit around watching TV or something I'm useless."

"You're working as many hours as most other professionals, Dean. Those years and years of seventy-hour weeks have earned you a few evenings in front of the TV." Dean makes a face. "At least give yourself a break for the first couple of weeks."

"I know, I know. And hell, I'm a bookstore owner, I should be reading more anyhow. I'll survive. You better get to work, though."

"I was thinking," Castiel begins hesitantly, "if you're just going to be doing something around your house, and I'm just going to be sitting here working… We don't really have to turn off Skype. Honestly, this house is bigger than my place in Pontiac and still pretty sparse on furniture, so it feels strangely empty all the time. It'd be kind of like having someone else in the room."

"So just, we both go do whatever but instead of texting if we think of something to say we can just go back to the Skype window?" Dean looks hesitant as well, but maybe also hopeful.

"Exactly," Cas says with a smile.

"Uh… Okay. Cool, we can try that." Dean grins. "Although I think this might be the final nail in the coffin as far as pretending we're not complete weirdos."

"I think that ship has sailed, Dean," Cas replies, laughing. Yes, it's sort of a strange plan. But it also sort of fits their not-relationship "situation." As long as Dean is on board, Castiel isn't going to worry about whether it's weird or not.

And it works surprisingly well. They leave their laptops open in their living rooms as they go about whatever business they would be doing otherwise—Cas curls up on the couch with one of the novels he needs to finish, and he can hear Game of Thrones on Dean's television quietly in the background. It's just enough background noise to be soothing rather than distracting, and better than turning on his own TV because there's no large, flashing picture in front of him to pull his focus.

They spend the entire afternoon like that—Dean first watching Game of Thrones, then realizing that he should be reading the last book in the series, which he'd never gotten around to, and switching to that, Cas finishing his novel and then going back to the computer to work on an essay.

"You're cute when you're concentrating," Dean says as he leans toward his computer, grinning at Castiel. He seems to have put his laptop on his coffee table now, facing the couch.

Cas raises an eyebrow, glancing at the camera. "The more you distract me the less you get to see me being cute, then."

Dean's grin just got bigger. "Lucky for me, you're cute when you're annoyed, too."

Castiel finally laughs, leaning his head on one hand. "Don't you have plans this evening?"

"Yeah, going out with Benny, but that's not for like another hour. Plenty of time to sit here watchin' you be cute."

Two weeks ago, they would not have flirted with each other so openly. But it's like a wall came down when they openly admitted that under other circumstances they'd be dating. Before that, Castiel knows that he'd been keeping a tight lid on any non-platonic feelings he was developing for Dean, and it felt like Dean had been, too. Every once in a while they'd say something mildly flirtatious or sexual in nature, but one or the other of them would always change the subject quickly. Now it's become a normal part of their banter.

"Watch as much as you like, I want to finish this essay before I leave for Charlie's."

"I can't believe you get to go to her game night and I don't, that's bullshit," Dean grouses, making a face.

Castiel rolls his eyes. "Dean, she only invited me because she knew you had plans with Benny! I am not trying to steal your best friend, I swear."

"No, dumbass, I mean I don't get to be there with _you_." Suddenly Dean blushes, looking like he didn't mean to say that. He scrubs one hand over his face. "Sorry, we've been hanging out for hours.  It's stupid for me to complain that we can't hang out even more."

"I understand that it's not the amount of time you're complaining about," Cas says quietly. "I wish we could do this in person, too. You know that." He pauses. He feels a little bad for changing the subject, but… "At any rate, I really do need to get back to work if I want to finish this before I leave."

"Yeah. Yeah, of course." Dean still seems embarrased. "I won't bug you again. You wanna turn off Skype?"

"If you want," Castiel says with a shrug and a soft smile, "but I do like having you there while I work. It does make it feel less empty."

"Awesome," Dean replies, and the affection in his eyes tugs at Castiel. He just wishes he could be sure that it's 100% real.

It becomes their new routine. Dean gets home from work and spends some time working on his car. After they've both eaten dinner, they get on Skype and leave it on the rest of the evening, while Cas works and Dean reads or watches television or bakes something. 

That last one starts suddenly on Monday, when Dean's eyes get real big and he exclaims "Dude! I know what I should be doing with all this free time! PIE!" He spends some time every day for the rest of the week trying to perfect his pie crust. Friday night neither of them have plans but Dean _insists_ that Castiel isn't allowed to work, so they wind up watching a movie together.

Saturday rolls around again, and the English department is having a barbecue that all faculty, staff, and grad students are invited to. So far, Cas hasn't had any problems with the other students, save for Marv, who continues to glare at him. Marv also made a pointed dig at the Nebula awards the other day and seemed to be trying to get a rise out of Castiel specifically with it, but he didn't rise to the bait. Hopefully, Marv won't be at the picnic, and Castiel can enjoy getting to know the other grad students outside of the classroom.

Luckily, Marv is _not_ there. And apparently Cas isn't the only one who's relieved.

"Ugh, at least that creepy dude didn't come," says a young beta named Krissy who's in the science fiction class. "Marv or whatever. What is his deal? Can we kick him out of the program?"

The other students laugh, but then Inias, a lecturer in the department who is standing with them, speaks up.

"I know who you mean, and he's not actually in the program. He's a University librarian, and all staff have the option of taking one class for free each semester, although it can't actually count toward a degree. Apparently he takes advantage of it _every_ semester. Two years ago I had him in an undergraduate poetry seminar, it was awful." He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated manner, but then he smiles. "On the up side, he takes classes from all different departments, not just English, so you probably won't have any more classes with him."

"Thank God for small miracles," Krissy grumbles, taking a swig of her beer.

Castiel winds up talking to Inias for quite a while. He definitely notices when the conversation turns occasionally flirtatious. Inias is attractive, certainly. And interesting to talk to. And, being a beta, he can't smell that Castiel has any kind of bond. So Cas flirts back a bit. Unfortunately, he thinks that the bonding hormones are still strong enough that he couldn't possibly sleep with Inias (or anyone but Dean) without getting sick. But flirting isn't affecting him physically, and he thinks going on a date, maybe even kissing, would be fine as well.

He focuses on the physical symptoms because he doesn't really want to think about anything else that might get in the way.

But as the barbecue is winding down, Inias smiles at him with intent.

"I'd love to continue this conversation, Castiel," he nearly purrs as he brushes their arms together. "Would you like to get coffee sometime? Or maybe a drink? Tonight even?"

There are no physical problems, even when Cas imagines going out with Inias. But he suddenly realizes that… he just doesn't want to. Flirting with someone in person was fun, just because flirting is often fun. But now he wants to go home and talk to Dean. He doesn't want to date someone else, and he's actually fairly certain that it's because he just doesn't _want_ to, not because he _can't_. He really values what he has with Dean right now, and he doesn't want to put it at risk in any way. And although he does want to make friends and have a social life, when it comes to being at all romantic, let alone sexual, if he has the choice he'd rather do that with Dean than anyone he's just met.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head as he realizes this, sighing.

"I'm very sorry, Inias," he says, still shaking his head, "I'm in a relationship. I wasn't thinking, and I didn't mean to lead you on like that."

With a sigh, Inias takes a small step back so that they're no longer touching.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," he says, no trace of seduction left in his voice. "Although, the coffee invitation still stands. No strings."

Castiel returns his smile, relieved. "I may take you up on that."

Cas isn't sure what it means, that he just told someone he's in a relationship. That he just turned down a date with someone he would otherwise be interested in. It seems real. It really does. There's nothing to implicate the hormones, no sickness, no _urge_ or _drive_ to do one thing or another that feels like something outside of his control. Yet he knows that the hormones could be influencing him subconsciously. He has no idea how he would know if they were.

It gnaws at him all the way home, and instead of calling Dean like he'd wanted to earlier, he curls up on the couch for a bit.

Even if it is the hormones, he reasons, it's only been a few weeks. They've been going down. They'll keep going down. The physical symptoms are almost gone. The sudden drives or surges of contentment that seem too strong for the context are few and far between now, and the longer he stays away from Dean, the more they'll fade. Staying in contact with Dean (let alone having any sort of sexual relationship with him) is probably keeping more bonding hormones in his blood than there would be otherwise, but they definitely _are_ diminishing over time.

His feelings for Dean, on the other hand, are only growing deeper and stronger.

The entire picture, the conflicting patterns, is not a situation he's prepared for. Thinking about it, about the implications, only causes cognitive dissonance. It doesn't make _sense_ , even though he knows that there is one way it could make sense, but he's terrified to even allow for that possibility. Because if he's wrong, and it's just the hormones controlling him subconsciously, they could ruin both of their lives.

He eventually does call Dean, but he doesn't tell him about Inias. Or about the thoughts that are swirling around his head. It's possible that Dean is fighting the same battle in his own head, but Castiel just isn't ready to talk about it just yet.


	9. Chapter 9

They don't really talk about this thing they're doing on Skype, whatever it is. It's cozy and domestic in a way that Dean's never had with anyone else. It's just close enough to being together that some days it's so frustrating Dean has to go for a walk, get away from that damn computer screen dangling his mate—Cas, dangling _Cas_ in front of him.

But it's nice, and they honestly enjoy each other's company. At least, Dean thinks so. This doesn't feel biological. He doesn't feel compelled, it's not an _urge_. He just thinks Cas is cool and wants to hang out with him. A lot. And talk to him. A lot. About everything. Stupid little shit like why he's annoyed with the Chinese place down the street. Or big shit like his messy relationship with his dad. And all Cas's little shit and big shit.

He tries not to worry about what it might mean. They're friends. They like hanging out. They're attracted to each other. They have sorta-sex sometimes. They maybe have some feelings that go beyond that, but nothing big enough that they need to _talk_ about it or anything. So all this time together-but-not doesn't have to _mean_ anything more. Even if Dean is starting to feel lonely anytime Cas isn't on his screen in a way he definitely didn't a few weeks ago. Maybe all this screen time is making the hormones act up again?

A couple weeks into this routine, he's sitting around reading _Full Dark, No Stars_ (now that he does have time to read, he's realized just _how_ behind he's gotten on some of his favorite authors) while Cas tries to write poetry and bitches about writing poetry. Dean has just looked up from his book to grin at the screen while Cas complains about having a terrible sense of rhythm and how much he hates having to try to write in particular meters. Cas is cute when he's grumpy.

"I write novels, I don't need to know how to structure my prose in iambic pentameter or anapestic tetrameter. I can hardly even distinguish between them to begin with. I don't see why this poetry class is required for students who will only be writing in prose."

Dean tries not to laugh, but he can't get the smile off his face and he's pretty sure it's just making Cas glare harder. Oh well, his fault.

"Babe, the whole reason you're in this program is for them to force you to try new stuff, right? Some of it's gonna be stuff you don't enjoy or stuff you're not good at. You'll never have to do it again after this. No one will _ever_ make you write a poem in anabaptist tetrachloride or whatever the fuck ever again, so I'm sure you can survive it once."

They both, thankfully, ignore the endearment that slips out. That's never happened before, but Dean figures it's not a big surprise. They basically _are_ dating now, whatever they want to call it. If Cas isn't going to complain about it, he's not going to call attention to it.

Before Cas can say much of anything, though, Dean's phone starts playing _Heat of the Moment_ , Sammy's least-favorite song. (Which Dean will never understand—Asia rocks.)

"Hey, that's my brother!" he exclaims as he grabs the phone off the arm of the couch.

"Hey Sammy, what's up?"

"Hey Dean, just haven't talked to you since you supposedly cut down your hours, wanted to see how it's going. What are you up to right now?"

"Nothin' exciting, just reading and talking to—" Dean's voice catches in his throat as he realizes that it didn't even occur to him not to mention Cas. Whom Sam does not know about. His employees, Cas's brother Gabe, and Cas's publicist Hannah are still basically the only people on earth who know about this. Neither of them has told their parents, primarily because they didn't want to get their mothers' hopes up over a mating that might not happen. It sounds like Dean's mom is way calmer than Cas's, but even Mary is anxious to see her oldest son find the kind of happiness Sam has and would be upset if she knew about Cas and then they _didn't_ mate.

It's kind of silly he hasn't told Sam yet. Sam's his best friend besides Charlie. Dean's never hidden anything from him. At first he'd told himself that it was just stupid to tell anyone when they had no clue what was going on, but as the weeks have gone on Dean has had to admit to himself that by now there's an entirely different reason. 

Sam got to do things the normal way—met an omega named Jess, dated, formed a scent bond pretty quickly but not 'til they'd gotten to know each other pretty well. They waited a year til they were done with college to blood bond and get married, and now they're a high-powered lawyer/doctor combo living in Sacramento, where mom gets to play with their two little girls to her heart's content. Pretty much the picture-perfect love story that already has Dean feeling a little inferior in the personal relationships department.

While Dean doesn't want to disappoint his mom if he doesn't stay with Cas, he doesn't really want to deal with his _own_ feelings of inadequacy if he tells Sam, then has to tell him that nope, that didn't work out for him, either.

But at this point, it's gotten to the point where he's not just delaying telling Sam a little. He's actively hiding that he's in a relationship, and that's not fair to Sam. If shit goes south, Dean is just gonna have to deal with a little extra humiliation.

"Dean? Talking to who?"

"Sam, I got something I need to tell you."

Cas's head snaps up, his eyebrows raised. Dean puts his hand over the phone for a second. "You mind if I tell him?"

"Of course, not, Dean. It's entirely up to you who you tell. I've told you before, anyone you trust, I'm willing to trust." The smile Cas gives him is gentle and supportive.

"Dean? What is it? What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, nothing's wrong, Sammy," Dean says, flashing a smile at Cas before leaning back in his seat. He blows out a hard breath, trying to figure out the best way to word this.

"So, I'm about to say something, and when you hear it you're gonna get real excited. But I need you to _not_ get that excited about it, okay, Sammy? Not until you've heard the whole story. Mom or dad aren't around, are they?"

"What? No. Jess is just putting the girls to bed. I'm alone in my office. But what are you talking about, Dean? What's exciting that I'm not allowed to get excited about?"

"Remember, do not freak out until you hear the whole story. Okay?"

"Dean, I am going to freak out if you _don't_ tell me!" Dean could tell that Sam was only barely holding himself back from yelling because of the girls being in bed.

"Fine. Okay, so… So I've got a spontaneous scent bond," Dean mutters, then winces as Sam, to no one's surprise, gets loudly excited despite everything Dean just said.

"What?! Seriously? Holy shit, Dean, that's fantastic! How could I not get excited about—oh, shit." Sam's voice is suddenly somber. "God, Dean, did something happen to them?"

"No, nothing like that. The thing is, the guy I bonded with—he's an alpha." He pauses, needing to gauge Sammy's response before he goes on.

"What? Wait, seriously? An alpha? You're sure?" There's no judgment in Sam's tone, only confusion.

Dean rolls his eyes where he knows Cas can see him. "Yes, I'm sure." Cas laughs, shaking his head, when he hears Dean say it.

"And you're sure it's a real scent bond? I mean, you've never really had one before, have you? Maybe you just—"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Sam, would you ask that if he were an omega? Does anyone _ever_ fucking question other people who claim to have spontaneous scent bonds? Of course not. Trust me, Sam, that's something _you've_ never had and I promise, there's no fucking mistaking it. The biological shit I was dealing with the first few days was insane."

"Okay, okay. I guess that's a thing that's possible, then. Hell, I'm still excited for you. So who is he? When did this happen? Have you told mom yet? When do we all get to meet him? Should I keep asking obvious questions, or do you think you can take it from here?"

"Lemme finish the story first, okay? Again, contain your enthusiasm 'til I'm done."

Sam huffs out a breath. "Okay. Tell me the story."

Dean pauses, not sure which bits to tell him first.

"So, to answer your first question, his name is Castiel Novak." He's not surprised when Sam interrupts him.

" _Castiel Novak?_ The author? Are you kidding me?"

"Sammy, exactly how many Castiel Novaks do you think there are?" Dean tries for exasperated, but can't keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Right."

"I have done a thorough search, actually," Cas's voice breaks in from the laptop a couple feet away, "and I can assure you that I am the only Castiel Novak in the United States right now."

"Cas says he knows for a fact there's only one person named Castiel Novak in the country, and it's him." 

"Is he there? Can I talk to him?"

"No, he's not actually, and if that makes no sense to you then maybe you should let me tell my story."

"Then how did he say—"

"Story!" Dean is actually kind of having fun confusing the hell out of Sam, but he wants to get this over with.

"Okay, fine! Tell me the story of how you wound up bonding with _Castiel Novak_ of all people. Although I gotta say, good job, he's pretty hot."

Dean grins and leans toward the computer. "Awww, Cas, turns out Sammy's got a crush on—"

" _Don't fucking tell him that!_ Jesus Dean, he's my brother-in-law now. And I didn't say I have a _crush_ on him, I've seen like two pictures of the guy ever and he's attractive, okay? Why, you disagree?"

"Pfft, no. Have you seen the guy? He's smokin'." Dean winks at the computer, and Cas rolls his eyes.

"I thought you had a story you were _dying_ to tell me, Dean. And I hope the story explains why and how you're apparently talking to both him and me even though he's not there."

"That part's not that interesting, Sam; he's on Skype, it's not magic."

"So you _could_ put me on speakerphone and you two could tell me your story together. That would be adorable, I bet you'd finish each others' sentences—"

"I swear to god, if you do not shut up I'm locking him in my cellar and never letting you meet him."

"Don't you live in an apartment?" Cas asks from the computer, tilting his head to one side. "I somehow doubt you have a cellar."

"What'd he just say?" Sammy asks. Dean ignores him.

"I appreciate that that's the part you're taking issue with, Cas. I knew I liked you."

"Are you gonna stop flirting with your mate long enough to tell me the story, or should I give you two some alone time and call back?"

Suddenly Dean has an image of Sam hanging up the phone and immediately calling their mom. He leans back in his seat again and pinches the bridge of his nose, jerked suddenly back to reality.

"Okay, look. Let's start with the most important part of the story: We haven't blood bonded."

"You—what? So, wait. I guess two alphas probably can't blood bond?"

"Nah, Cas's brother is a doctor. He claims that according to what they learned in med school, it should be possible."

"But… if you _can_ , then why haven't you? Hell, _how_ haven't you? Look, I'm not trying to piss you off, Dean, but I thought with a real spontaneous scent bond you pretty much lose all control and blood bond, like, the second you can get somewhere private."

"It _is real_ , and yeah, we kinda lost control a little but realizing we were two alphas sorta dumped cold water on things. I mean, not a lot of cold water, but enough to think rationally for like five minutes."

"Okay," Sam says, calmer than he has been this whole conversation. "I won't say another word, tell me the whole story from the start."

Dean takes a deep breath. "So, we met about a month and a half ago—" Sam makes a noise like he's about to interrupt, but he doesn't. "Cas came to do a signing in my store. As soon as he walked in, it was exactly like what you hear about, we smelled each other and it was, like, the best thing you've ever smelled in your life times ten, right? Luckily, I knew from his press kit he was an alpha or things probably would have gotten really confusing really fast. But we managed to talk it over and we agreed that we needed to at least wait til after the signing to figure out what the hell was going on. So I went home, and that's the last time we've been in the same room together since."

"Seriously? Sorry."

Dean rolls his eyes and continues. "We've been texting and talking on the phone and on Skype and shit ever since. We haven't ruled out blood bonding, but we're not a hundred percent sure about it either. Since neither of us was real big on the idea of mating with a total stranger to start with, it's actually kinda cool that we're getting to make our own decision about it, y'know? Anyhow, we're really good friends now, and the hormone spike was kinda overwhelming at first but it's calmed down a lot by now, so things are cool at the moment."

"Things are cool? You had a spontaneous scent bond with another alpha, got to spend like ten minutes with him, haven't seen him since, but you talk to him regularly and you're _friends_ now, you're… _friends_ with your _mate_ ,  and all you can say is things are cool?"

"Look, I told you it wasn't anything to get excited about, right? Don't tell anyone but Jess, okay? I don't want mom getting it into her head that her baby's found a mate and then crying or something if we decide not to blood bond."

"So… when are you gonna decide one way or the other?"

Dean groans. "I don't know, Sammy! Look, at first we set ourselves a deadline, because Cas was moving to Lawrence a month after we met—and that's a whole _other_ story, I'm not even gonna get into it right now. But then it was a month and we still weren't sure so we decided to forget the deadline and we're just avoiding each other for now. I mean, in real life. We've divided the town up and everything, we got a whole system going."

"You're telling me that you're Skypeing with your mate who is currently _on the other end of town?_ This just gets weirder with every new detail, Dean, you do realize that."

Dean clenches his jaw at Sam calling their situation weird. Whether it was or not, he didn't need to hear it. "Thanks for the support, Sam. Glad I told ya."

"Shit, sorry. That came out wrong. Look, I don't think _you're_ weird, or Castiel is weird, or the fact that you've got a scent bond with another alpha. Unusual, but not _weird_. But, I dunno. On the one hand, I totally see the logic in how you're handling it, and look, I'll support whatever decision you guys eventually make. But at the same time it all kinda adds up to… kind of a weird situation, right? I mean it must be a little weird for you, living it."

Dean shrugs. He looks over at the computer, where Cas seems to have gone back to work even though Dean knows he's listening. He realizes that the only thing that's weird is how normal their routine seems to him now, even after just a couple weeks.

"I dunno, Sam. Not the word I'd use, honestly. I mean, okay, I get how it seems weird from the outside, but… I dunno, man. We're doing what works for us. If we could date, we'd date, but we can't, so we're doin' what we _can_ do."

Sam sighs. "Yeah, I get it. Sorry, this just took me by surprise. Like, not just once, but every new detail you add on is a new surprise. It's taking a little while to process. Why'd you wait so long to tell me, anyhow, Dean?"

Dean groans. "I didn't tell _anyone_ at first except Charlie, 'cause honestly I figured we'd talk a couple of times and decide nope, this isn't for us, and that'd be the end of it. Then once it was clear we weren't going to figure it out that quick, I figured I'd just wait til he moved and we _had_ to make a decision. But then that didn't happen, either. I wound up having to tell all my employees before he moved—"

"Wait, _Jo_ knows? Jo's known about this for weeks and you didn't tell _me?_ What the hell, Dean, Charlie I get but Jo?"

"I'm sorry! I had to tell 'em because half of them already met him and if they, like, ran into him at the grocery store or something things could get real awkward real quick. And you're right, I shoulda told you then, too. I just… I dunno, Sam. Every person who knows is one more person I'm gonna feel like I'm letting down if we decide not to go through with it."

"Dude, it's your life, it's your bond. The only people you can let down or not let down are yourself and Castiel, and as long as you come to a decision you're both comfortable with then you're not letting yourselves down. I'm not invested in this either way—I'm invested in you being happy, so as long as you do what makes you happy you haven't let me down at all. I just want to know what's going on in your life, Dean, that's all."

"Thanks, Sam."

"Good call on not telling mom, though."

"Right?"

—

Dean's kind of annoyed that he's so relieved that Sammy took the news well. Annoyed at himself because he _knows_ Sam isn't the type who'd turn up his nose just because they're two alphas. Hell, he'd been into some pretty hippy-dippy shit in college, and he IDs as bigender himself. So Dean shouldn't have been worried about it to begin with, and he shouldn't be so relieved about it.

He didn't tell Sam about the whole open-Skype thing he and Cas do. He hasn't told anyone about that, not even Charlie. He's a little worried that if anyone knew about that they'd immediately insist that that is not something friends do and that _obviously_ he and Cas should blood bond now. And no, they're really not just friends anymore, but it's not that simple. Nothing is simple about this situation, and it only gets more complicated as they go. 

At least, his feelings only seem to get more complicated. He tries to just not think about them, to just let them happen without trying to name them or categorize them or overanalyze them. He knows that eventually he'll have to sort out what's real and what's biology, but it never seems to seem like a good idea to try right at the moment.

A week or so after talking to Sam, he's on the phone with Cas. It's a Saturday, his day off, and he's wandering around a park getting a little fresh air before it starts getting really cold out.

Cas groans. "Okay, I need to go read. If I don't get started now, there's no way I'll have time to read both of these novels plus write that short paper by Monday. I'll see you tonight?"

"Yeah, I'll get on after dinner. L—have fun. With your books." Nice save, Winchester. Smooth as sandpaper.

"I will. Enjoy your walk."

They hang up, and Dean stares at the phone.

He almost said "Love you." Not as a confession or a revelation. Just like it was something normal he says all the time.

What the hell?

He sits down on a nearby bench and stares at the phone for a while, trying to figure out how he feels about that.

—

He tries to put it out of his mind, but given how much time he spends with Cas, he can't. Every time he looks at the man, now, he wants to say it.

He's in love with his mate.

That should be the most natural thing in the world, but it terrifies him.

Finally, on Tuesday, he grabs Charlie and tells Jody they might be taking an extra-long lunch.

"Okay, something's been off for a couple days now. If you didn't tell me soon I was gonna have to corner you and wring it out of you, Winchester. You're walking around smelling terrified and confused."

"That's 'cause I _am_ terrified and confused." Dean runs a hand through his hair.

"Is something going on with Sam? Or your parents?"

"No, no, nothing like that. It's… it's about Cas." He suddenly feels stupid. He can't believe he's been freaking out so badly Charlie can smell it, and over something that _should_ be simple. But it's really not.

Charlie's brow creases, and she reaches out for his hand. "Is everything okay with him? You're still talking and stuff, right?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. It's great. We're totally talking. Maybe too much, I dunno." He finally tells her how they've been spending their evenings.

"Oh my _god_ , that is too adorable. You two idiots. You totally deserve each other." She rolls her eyes and takes a bite of her salad, shaking her head.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean gripes. He's _trying_ to work up to getting her help figuring out if his feelings for Cas are real or not, and she's… doing whatever this thing is she's doing right now. It's annoying, whatever it is, this thing she's doing.

"Well, look at the two of you!" she says around her bite of salad, pointing at him with her fork. "You're so in love you can't stay apart even when you're staying apart, and yet you're so scared of some stupid hormones you're letting them dictate your lives!"

"What do you mean, we're letting them dictate our lives? That's the whole point, we don't _want_ them to. And now I think I actually _am_ falling in love with him, but I can't tell if it's real or just the stupid chemicals!"

Charlie looks at him like he's the slowest stormtrooper on the Death Star.

"Dude. _Dude!_ Fuck. The. Chemicals! You told me a couple weeks ago that all the weird-ass effects from the first scent bond burst were pretty much gone, right? You could even lie to him if you wanted, right?" Dean shrugs, but he knows she's right. He said it himself. "Sure, there's some bonding hormones left, and there will be for a long time, but bonding hormones don't make you fall in love. _Definitely_ not the low levels of them running around in your body by this point. You know what makes you fall in love? Getting to know someone. Finding out that you get along with them really well. So well that you want to spend all your free time with them. _Spending_ all your free time with them, and having it feel totally normal and cool and not awkward. Sound familiar?"

"You honestly think my feelings could be real? Charlie, I know you've been wanting us to get together from the start, so don't jerk me around here. You really, seriously think it's not the hormones."

She takes his hand, giving him her most sincere face. "I really, seriously think that if you two weren't so scared of these hormones, you'd see what a stupid question that is. You're so busy running away from them that you haven't stopped to check where the thing you really want is. Maybe it's in that other direction, but maybe it was hiding behind the hormones all along and you've just gotta get past them. Don't let them chase you away."

He sighs. "Okay. Okay, I'll think about it. Maybe you're right. Maybe we're taking this whole 'not being defined by our biology' thing too far. Hell, I don't even know how he feels."

"All you can do is figure out how you feel. And then talk to him about it, don't let it fester, okay? You've clearly already been letting it fester for a couple days, soon it's gonna go bald and move into your spare bedroom."

That night, he does think about it. It's all he can think about as he watches Cas through his computer screen. He's been examining his feelings for days, and he realizes that he's been _trying_ to prove to himself that it's just hormonal. And he hasn't been able to. He just… he likes being with Cas. He likes talking to him, but he also likes sitting around, hearing the sounds of Cas working in the background. At this point, Cas knows him better than almost anyone in his life. He's probably as close to Dean as Charlie is, and given that he's known Charlie since high school that's a real achievement. The idea of going through life not talking to Cas causes him some hormonal distress, yeah, but it also just… would suck. 

He remembers how it felt, that first night, when he thought Cas didn't want him. The hormones hit him so hard, but he wasn't actually sad that he wouldn't get to see Cas. Not in the real way. Heck, his rational mind understood Cas's actions completely and didn't really blame him at all. Whereas if Cas told him right now that he'd thought it through and decided they need to cut ties, he'd be devastated. He'd wonder how he could have gotten it all wrong. He'd miss Cas like hell, miss talking to him and miss watching movies with him and miss just hanging out with him.

He stares at his mate, who is typing with great concentration and mumbling to himself. He wants Cas to do that at a desk in the corner of the room, while Dean reads a book on the couch. He wants to be able to get up and kiss Cas on the back of the neck while he goes into the kitchen for a drink. When Cas finishes the paper, Dean wants to pull him down on the couch with him and watch TV wrapped around each other. He wants to wake up with him in their bed, every morning. Every morning, as far into the future as he can see.

Castiel Novak is an amazing man. He's gorgeous, he's funny and kind and understands Dean in a way no one else does, not even Charlie. He's incredibly talented and devoted to his craft. And Dean is completely, irrevocably in love with him.

Dean has no idea how to tell him this.


	10. Chapter 10

Castiel had known that it was only a matter of time before things with Marv came to a head.

A month into the school year, Marv is still the only person who's given him any trouble. If any of the other students recognize his name they've kept it to themselves. Only one person has said a word, a kid fresh out of college named Alfie who approached him after class one day to talk about _Alien Angels_. Alfie is excited to be in the class with him, though luckily he does not seem to be putting Castiel on any sort of pedestal.

Marv, though. Castiel knows that Marv must know who he is. Even if it weren't for the glares, Marv is clearly well-versed enough in science fiction that he must recognize Castiel's name even if he hasn't read any of his books. He's brought up the Nebulas a few times in class now, and Castiel doesn't think it's his imagination that every time it's been with the intention of baiting Cas into either arguing with him or bragging. Cas has done neither, and every time it seems to piss Marv off more.

They're _supposed_ to be discussing _The Left Hand of Darkness_. Of course, any discussion of that is going to be inherently political—the first time a woman (or an omega) won a Hugo or a Nebula (let alone both in one year), for a novel whose central conceit hinged on perceptions of sex and gender? The entire reason it's on the syllabus is because of the way that Le Guin disrupted the beta boys' club of mid-century science fiction. And if nobody in the class were a _raging asshole_ , it would be a great discussion.

Unfortunately, there's Marv.

"Look, these are supposed to be awards for _science fiction_ , not gender politics. But if that's what they really wanted to base their decision on, they should have given it to Heinlein for _I WIll Fear No Evil_! Now _that_ is a book that really gets at the intricacies of gender! Why isn't that on our syllabus?"

He has to be trolling. He's making this shit up just to see who he can get a rise out of. Right? Castiel refuses to believe that anyone, even this guy, would suggest Heinlein as an authority on gender. Let alone a book that's not only widely considered one of Heinlein's worse efforts but that also features one of the weirdest and creepiest "explorations" of gender ever conceived.

"Nice try, Marv, but _I WIll Fear No Evil_ was published a year after _Left Hand of Darkness_ , so they wouldn't have been eligible for any awards at the same time. We'll be discussing Heinlein tomorrow, at any rate, so cool your jets," Prof. Devereaux replies.

Castiel can't help huffing a quiet laugh, but it's not quiet enough to escape Marv's notice.

"Oh! I suppose _Castiel_ thinks that the people who vote for the Nebulas can do no evil, despite the fact that they regularly reward formulaic dreck."

Castiel shrugs innocently. "I was simply amused at the idea that the publication date was the biggest problem with what you just said, although I fully understand why Professor Devereaux would choose to focus on that rather than even acknowledge the rest of your statement."

The fact that half the class laughs at this openly only winds Marv up more, but Devereaux somehow manages to steer the conversation in a different direction. For a while.

Somehow, Marv eventually worms his way back in, and manages to derail yet again with a longwinded rant about how science fiction shouldn't be about _omegas_ , it should be about _people_. The "universal human condition," which apparently is something only experienced by male alphas and betas, to hear Marv tell it.

Castiel nearly bursts into applause when Krissy finally turns to face Marv and simply says, "Oh my god. _Stop. Talking_."

"Just because my opinions aren't _politically correct_ —"

"Okay, people, back on topic—" Devereaux makes a desperate attempt to salvage the conversation, but Marv and his ego are having none of it.

"I _am_ on topic! Science fiction has gone down the toilet since omegas like Le Guin have been given any kind of legitimacy! Look where it's led us, to hacks like Scalzi!"

By this point, Castiel is actively holding himself back, gripping the edge of his desk and clenching his jaw while he focuses on breathing slowly.

But Marv just keeps going. "It's bad enough that he got a Hugo for a book written at an eighth grade reading level, but he thinks he's the arbiter of what is and isn't acceptable just because oooh, he's a _male omega_ so nobody better offend him! Just because he's got a bunch of twentysomething sycophants who read his blog and hang on his every word, that self-righteous little weasel—"

" _Professor_ ," Castiel finally breaks in, his hand raised. He carefully addresses only his instructor, not even looking in Marv's direction. "I believe it is reasonable to ask that we limit discussion to criticism of an author's works and the impact of those works, and leave personal insults out it."

"He's right, Marv, and Scalzi isn't even on the syllabus this semester so—"

"Oh, please, you wanna talk impact, let's talk about the impact of his voting bloc of social justice warriors on the Hugos the last few years—"

"John Scalzi never created a voting bloc," Castiel mutters. Now sitting with his head in one hand, he knows he shouldn't take the bait, but he can't let this topic lie.

"I'm sure you know all about it, don't you? You probably sat with him at WorldCon, snickering at all the deserving authors who were passed over that year so that you people could push through his trumped-up fanfiction."

"I didn't even _vote_ for _Redshirts_ ," he grits out, a headache forming. "But that has nothing to do with Le Guin, so can we get back to—"

"No, you probably voted for _2312_ , didn't you? _Redshirts_ probably wasn't progressive enough—now there, _there's_ a novel that shows where Le Guin's ilk got us! That kind of nonsense, as if humans will somehow 'evolve' beyond seeing the world as alpha, beta, or omega! Millions of years of evolution cast off in only three centuries!"

"You know, Le Guin has said that science fiction isn't about predicting the future…" Devereaux seizes the brief return to something vaguely related to the actual topic of discussion and somehow gets things back under control, mostly by calling on anyone but Marv for a while and pointedly calling on someone else as soon as he opens his mouth.

By the last few minutes of class, Marv is clearly pissed off at being shut out of the discussion. Castiel thinks that he's just going to sit and pout until he can leave, but unfortunately it seems he's simply waiting for Castiel to speak.

A discussion of the legacy of Le Guin's _ansible_ has devolved into friendly banter about science fiction technologies.

"Oh, please, I've read your books," Krissy teases Castiel, "You don't even explain how the angels get to and from earth!"

The lighthearted tone the conversation has taken lulls Castiel into a false sense of security, and he stupidly lets his guard down even though this is the first time anyone has mentioned his books during class.

"That is not true!" he says, laughing. "I'll have you know that in the fifth book, Raphael makes a single offhanded remark about the size of their ship, revealing that they travel in a ship of some sort."

Krissy cracks up. "Oh, a _ship_ , well why didn't you say so?"

"Wowee, how many books have you published?" A cheerful beta woman named Donna is sitting next to him, and although her question is completely sincere, Castiel realizes immediately what's about to happen.

Marv grins like a shark. "Ah, here we go. I've been waiting for this moment since the start of the semester. Why would overrated—sorry, I mean _celebrated_ —science fiction author Castiel Novak take a course he could probably teach except to wave his fame and success in the faces of the other students?"

"I'm the one who brought up his books, you dick," Krissy spits, her laughter gone as soon as Marv opened his mouth.

"Oh wow, look at the time, class is over," Devereaux makes a show of looking at a watch he's not wearing, but none of the students are paying any attention to him.

And Castiel finally snaps. He's spent weeks calmly ignoring Marv's prodding, and if class is officially over he doesn't even have to feel bad about it.

"Look, I don't know what your problem is with me," he growls. "If I've done something to specifically hurt you, please let me know and I will apologize and make amends. I do not care if you like my books or not, but do not expect me to apologize for my career. I will not apologize for any of the novels I've published, I will not apologize for the money I have made from them, I will not apologize for winning a Nebula. I will not even apologize for the fact that yes, actually, I _did_ vote for _2312_ for the Hugo, nor for the fact that John knows that because he is, as a matter of fact, my friend, and is fine with it because we are both _adults_ who can separate our work from our identities. So if you are hoping for any of that, you will probably find the rest of this semester to be extremely disappointing."

He ignores the sound of a couple people applauding as he storms out—he just needs to get as far away from Marv as he can, as quickly as possible.

The last thing he hears as he turns out of the door and starts down the hall is Donna's plaintive "Wait, am I the only one here who didn't know any of that?"

—

Castiel doesn't stop moving until he gets home. His heart is still pounding in his ears and he is still grinding his teeth, going over and over everything that dickhead said. Without even thinking, he pulls his phone out as he throws himself down onto the couch and has dialed Dean before he even realizes what he's doing.

"Hey, Cas, what's up? Everything okay?"

Castiel suddenly realizes that it's the middle of the afternoon and Dean is still at work. He feels like an idiot for disrupting his mate's— _Dean_ 'sday.

"I'm sorry, Dean, I shouldn't bother you at work. I can—I can talk to you later, it isn't that important."

"Dude, one major advantage of being the boss is that I can take a break whenever I feel like it. I'm locked in my office doing payroll shit anyhow. What's going on?"

Castiel lets out a long breath and closes his eyes, then tells Dean the whole story. Dean, for this part, does an excellent job of breaking in at all the right moments with comments like "What the fuck?" or "He actually fucking said that?"

"…and then I got the hell out of there."

"Why is that dick still allowed in the class?"

"I don't know if the professor has the authority to actually drop him from the roster for just being unpleasant. He definitely could have done a better job of shutting him down, that's for sure. I don't know, if Marv keeps it up I'll talk to Professor Devereaux about what can be done. Before today, he'd made some snide remarks that I know were meant to rile me up specifically, but he hadn't directly gone after me. The professor can't really discipline him for having antiquated ideas about gender and sex, but he can certainly disallow direct attacks on other students. I don't know if he'll be intimidated by the fact that I actually stood up for myself, or motivated by the fact that he managed to get under my skin."

"He didn't get under your skin, Cas, he directly insulted you. A guy like that, ignoring him only goes so far. If you hadn't said something today and Devereaux wasn't willing to step in, he'd just keep escalating, you know that. Everything you said was completely fair, probably a hell of a lot nicer than I coulda been."

Castiel makes a small, frustrated noise as he's suddenly struck with the urge to curl up against Dean's side and be comforted.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Ignore me, sorry."

"Dude, in case you hadn't noticed, this is not 'ignore Castiel' time. It's 'tell me what you're pissed about so I can tell you you're totally right to be pissed and probably also get pissed on your behalf' time."

Cas bursts into laughter, even as his feelings for Dean are swelling into an uncomfortable knot in his chest. If Dean could just stop being wonderful for a few minutes, things would be so much simpler.

"So what else is there? C'mon."

"I just—" He sighs. "God, I wish I could be with you and touch you and take comfort from you without worrying about what my hormones would try to force me into."

He hears Dean exhale shakily. "Um. I, uh, I actually. I've kinda been thinking about that."

Castiel stills, barely even breathing. Several things Dean could be about to say run through his head all at once, all equally terrifying. "Oh?"

"Yeah, um. I was thinking, what if, um." Dean takes a deep breath, seeming to steady himself. "We're so worried about letting our biology make our decisions for us, and push us into things we might not want. But what if… what if at this point, we're letting it make our decisions in the other direction?"

Cas takes a moment to process this and work out exactly what Dean means. "You're suggesting that… that in only allowing ourselves to do exactly the opposite of what our hormones dictate, we're still letting our hormones dictate our actions." It's actually not a bad point.

"Yeah, basically. I mean, we've known each other for two months now, Cas. I talk to you more than anyone who's not on my payroll. Sure, there's still some hormonal stuff going on, but these days ninety percent of how I feel about you is based on _actually knowing you_. Maybe it's time to start seriously thinking about making our own decisions about this stuff instead of just blindly not doing what our bodies want us to."

"Maybe you're right," Castiel murmurs, already lost in thought. He mentally sifts through what he knows about Dean, how he feels about those things, and how he feels about Dean. It's… surprisingly easy, once he lets himself think freely about it instead of always trying to _not_ think about some part of it or explain some of it away just because he feels like he should. He's a little shocked at how quickly he arrives at a conclusion.

"I mean, we don't have to make any decisions, like, right this second, y'know?" Dean is saying as Cas settles his thoughts. "But… I… Cas… Shit." He lets out a harsh sigh, then tries again. "Okay. Look. I'm just gonna do this. Cards on the table. I know how I feel about you. I'm in love with you, Cas, and not because my brain went haywire the moment I laid eyes on you. I love you because in the past two months you've gone from a total stranger to the most important person in my life, without even being in the same room, and it hasn't even been hard. If we'd met online and then had all the same conversations since, I'd feel exactly the same way. And if you don't feel the same, that's fine, and if you don't know yet, that's fine, too, and no matter what, we still don't have to decide anything yet. I just—now that I know, I can't not tell you."

Castiel is silent for a moment, overcome. By the fact that Dean was brave enough to say all of that, by the overwhelming love he feels for this man, by the fact that it's returned. "Dean," he finally manages, voice slightly raspy as his throat tries to close with emotion, "I had a horrible day today, and it didn't occur to me for one second to do anything but talk to you about it. From the moment I left that classroom, all I wanted was to get home so I could call you. And now that I'm talking to you, all I want is to be with you. Because I love you and I can't imagine anything more comforting than being with you. I'm not sure there's been a single day in the past two months that you haven't done something or said something that made me fall a little more in love with you. I just wasn't letting myself believe that it _was_ because of the things you were doing and saying, because I was so scared of being wrong. If I let go of that for a minute, it's blindingly obvious how I feel about you, and that you are more than amazing enough to be the sole cause of those feelings regardless of any hormonal pull I feel on top of them." 

He hears Dean's relieved chuckle, and wishes Dean could see how widely he's smiling. For the first time in a long time, he feels like his heart and his mind and his body are all on the same page, and they all want to be with his mate. The next decision is easy.

"1281 South Maple," he says, completely aware of the full implications. Dean is silent for a moment.

"…What? Cas?"

"That's my address, Dean. 1281 South Maple. Do what you want with it. Take as much time as you want to decide."

"You're—you're sure about this?"

"I'm sure." He's never been so sure about anything. He doesn't even care that the hormones might be giving him a little bit of an extra push on this; he trusts how he feels now, and he trusts that his feelings will only grow deeper as he spends more time with Dean. If the hormones want to help speed that along, he's okay with it, because he knows that if you took all the biology off the table they'd still get there anyhow.

There's a pause, but it's not tense or uncomfortable. It feels right. Dean _should_ stop and think for a minute right now.

"So am I," Dean finally says, and Castiel is so relieved he could cry. "But let's—we've spent a lotta time freaking out about this, y'know? Maybe we should take a day or two to get used to the idea. _Not_ because I think we're gonna change our minds," he adds hastily, "I wanna be with you, Cas, and if you say you want that too, I believe you. But two days ago, we were still trying to figure out how to avoid the stuff we're about to dive into head first, and I don't think it'll kill us to wait 'til tomorrow."

"I agree," Castiel says, and he does, even if some primal part of him is screaming at him not to. The fact that he can ignore that part easily only makes him more confident in his decisions. "And at any rate, if we wait until at least tomorrow afternoon I don't have class for the following three days."

Dean hums appreciatively. "I like the way you think. But seeing as how I'm still at work, I better not think about that too much."

"Fair enough," Castiel chuckles. "I should let you get back to work. I hope you're having a better day there than I've had."

"I'm sure as hell having a great day now," Dean says, and Castiel can hear the smile in his voice. "This is plenty good enough to cancel out the sinus shit that's been annoying me all day." Castiel cringes sympathetically. Dean has mentioned a ragweed allergy before that acts up in the fall. "Got this headache behind my eyes that won't go away, this sorta pressure-y feeling? And it's fucking up my nose, is worst of all. It's been getting worse all day and now I can barely smell anything. Shit, I gotta find some Sudafed and get this under control before tomorrow, because holy shit do I wanna smell you, Cas."

"If you're still sick tomorrow and you'd rather wait until Friday, or even later, that's fine, you know." Castiel's voice softens as he thinks about Dean not getting the full experience as they mate and solidify their bond. "I'd much rather put it off a few more days than have it not be the best experience it possibly can be for you."

"I'll get it worked out," Dean says, "Might have to wait til Friday if I have to try a couple different meds, but between Sudafed, Claritin, and Zyrtec, something'll work. Maybe some ibuprofen for the swelling." Castiel could hear a knock on Dean's office door in the background. "Hey, I gotta get going. I'll call you as soon as I get home tonight, ok?"

"I look forward to it. I love you." If he were in public, Castiel might be embarrassed at the size of the grin on his face as he says it, just at the fact that he can say it and mean it freely.

"I love you, too. And I'll see you soon."

Castiel's heart is racing as he hangs up the phone. He can't remember the last time he felt this excited for something—maybe the day his first novel was released? Maybe not even then.  It seems like he should be terrified after making such a monumental decision, but he's simply overjoyed. Okay, and maybe a little scared, but that's to be expected when you're facing a life change. 

He tips his head back against the sofa and closes his eyes. He loves Dean. Not because his body wants him to, but because Dean is funny and smart and empathetic. Dean understands him intuitively and understands how to help him when he's upset or struggling. He thinks he understands Dean, as well—at least, Dean acts like he does. 

Castiel is a bit surprised at how quickly and easily he made the decision about how he feels and what he wants, but as he reflects on the past few weeks, it makes sense. He's fallen in love with Dean naturally, over time, as they've gotten to know each other. Maybe more quickly than most people, yes. But Dean is right, he'd started using his gut reaction against his hormones as a reason to hold his feelings at arm's length, to avoid examining them. Once he finally let himself do that, it wasn't hard to see what was there. An emotional bond built on honesty, trust, and communication, not just hormones. 

And contemplating that, he finally understands the role of their pheromones: they were never there to force him into something he wouldn't want. They are there because he and Dean truly are compatible; if they'd been betas, they would have fallen in love just as readily. The pheromones just tried to alert them to that fact, to make sure they didn't miss out on each other. Castiel could really have done without them being _quite_ so assertive; but then again, if they hadn't been, it would have been easy for one or both of them to have given up right at the beginning. So he can maybe make peace with his body, now that he and it are finally in agreement, and allow that it hasn't been trying to control him so much as point out the obvious.

And now that he and Dean have talked about it, have admitted their feelings and made plans to mate and bond for life, he can feel some new hormonal urges stirring. For one thing, he thinks as he suddenly looks around the living room, he needs to make a good home for Dean. He has no idea if Dean will even want to live here, as they've never talked about where they would live if they stayed together, but it at least needs to be clean and comfortable and warm and inviting—he stops himself. _Let's start with clean._

For the next few hours, he busies himself with nesting. He resists the urge to run straight to Target or Home Depot and instead starts a list of all the things he'd like to fix or change or decorate as he goes. He rolls his eyes at himself as he does so; he's lived here for a month, he really should have done some of this by now. Nothing like a nesting instinct to get your ass in gear, he supposes. 

By six o'clock, the kitchen is spotless, his wreck of a bedroom has been vaguely salvaged (at least, the masses of dirty laundry have been tossed in the washer, along with the sheets), and he's vacuumed the entire house. He stops for a glass of iced tea and studies the list he's been writing out, vaguely wondering what he's going to do about dinner and when Dean, who should be home from work by now, is going to call.

Just then, he hears his phone buzzing in the living room, where he'd left it on the coffee table. When he gets there he's surprised to see that it isn't Dean calling.

He picks his phone up and swipes to answer the call. "Hello, Charlie."

"Castiel?" She sounds like she's been crying. "Um, something happened to Dean."

"Is he all right?" His voice is nearly a whisper, his heart racing, not sure he wants to hear the answer.

"Okay, first, he's not dead or anything. And the doctors say it's not anything fatal. But at the moment he's, um. He's in an ambulance. On his way to KU Med Center in Kansas City. I'm about to head there, too."

Relief floods him at the news that Dean is alive, but it can only go so far to quell the terror. "What happened?"

"It's called a pituitary tumor apoplexy," she replies, sounding like she's reciting exactly what the doctor told her. "Apparently he had a tumor on his pituitary gland that he didn't know about, and blood started leaking into it today so it grew really quickly. He's had a headache for a while, that was probably the first symptom."

"He was complaining about not being able to smell," Castiel murmurs, "he thought it was his sinuses."

"Yes! Apparently it started pressing on his olfactory tract, screwing that up. And by this evening, it was putting enough pressure on his optic nerve that his vision started to go. He got dizzy and was seeing double, and he sat down for a while but then he said that things were starting to go black around the edges, like his peripheral vision was going. By the time I got him to Lawrence Memorial, he could barely see anything. Jesus, I thought he was having a stroke or an aneurysm or something," the emotion floods back into her voice, "but the doctors say it's probably benign and surgery can take care of it. He'll be fine."

"Thank you for calling me, Charlie." His head is spinning, still trying to process how this all could have happened when he was just talking to Dean on the phone, confessing their love for each other, three, maybe four hours ago.

"I called Bobby first, and he's contacting everyone in California. But obviously you were the next person I'd call. He, um. Dean told me that you guys decided to go ahead and… meet?" She sounds shy but happy, even hopeful, as she says it, and Castiel's panic about Dean's health is temporarily soothed a little by the fact that Dean had been so excited about their plans that he'd told Charlie almost immediately.

"Yes. I love him, very much. And I look forward to deepening our bond. But I—" He hesitates. "I'm not sure it would be wise for me to visit him, given the effect I'm likely to have on his hormones. Especially when his pituitary gland is trying to recover from something like this."

There's a pause while Charlie turns this over. Castiel's stomach is churning—his mate is in danger, he can't do anything about it, and he might not even be able to provide the most basic comfort. Dean may feel abandoned, Dean may think he doesn't care.

"Come to the hospital, at least," Charlie says finally. "You know they do everything they can to block pheromones between the waiting rooms and the patients. You can talk to his doctors and let them decide whether you're allowed in the room with him. If it's allowed, I know he wants to see you more than anyone."

The sincerity and fondness in her voice makes his heart clench.

"All right. You said he's being moved to Kansas City?"

"Yep. The KU med school is over there, not here in Lawrence, and they have neurosurgeons who specialize in pituitary tumors. It's about 45 minutes away. They said he's not likely to actually go into surgery 'til the morning, but they're going to be doing all sorts of tests and prep and stuff tonight."

"But he can't see? They're just going to let him spend all night blind? Why did they rush him over there in an ambulance if he's not even getting surgery 'til tomorrow?" Castiel thought this seemed like a serious enough situation to require immediate surgery. What if there was permanent damage from waiting?

"They gave him some IV steroids to reduce the swelling, and I'm guessing they'll do more stuff like that overnight. They wanted to take him in the ambulance so they could keep him hooked up to the IVs, keep pumping him full of that stuff. So he might get some of his vision and smell back tonight. But they said that waiting a few hours won't make a difference in the long-term outcomes. I don't know exactly what those are, we didn't get that far in the conversation." Charlie sounds mildly annoyed by this, which Castiel appreciates.

"All right. I suppose I'd rather his surgeon get a good night's sleep before opening up his skull and doing brain surgery. I'll see you there?"

"Yup. Like I said, heading out right now. See you there!"

They hang up, and Castiel looks around his clean house. He wonders how long it will be before Dean gets to see it. He hopes Dean can still see it when this is over.


	11. Chapter 11

Castiel throws together a quick overnight bag. Whether or not he's allowed to spend the night in the hospital, he wants to stay in Kansas City so he doesn't have to drive back first thing in the morning.

He has to avoid the urge to Google "pituitary tumor apoplexy." He knows that nothing good ever comes of Googling medical conditions, and the doctors will have information more specific to Dean's case than a general article that lists all the ways it can go wrong. The important thing is that it's probably benign and treatable with surgery. Whatever the long-term consequences of having the parts of his brain in charge of sight, smell, and hormone production tampered with are, Dean will survive. And Castiel will be there to help him every step of the way.

As he gets in his car, though, worries start to surface. What if Dean can't ever smell him again?What if his brain can't process the pheromones? Will they still have their bond? He feels a weight settle in the pit of his stomach as his worst fear rises to the surface: what if the bond was never real at all? What if the tumor had been causing his pituitary to go haywire, producing hormones and pheromones that never would have been there otherwise? What if this really is his parents all over again?

Once he's on the highway, he calls Gabriel. Only partially for his medical expertise; Castiel also wants reassurance from his big brother, who keeps a surprisingly level head at times like these.

After he explains what he knows, Gabe lets out a low whistle.

"Jesus, Cassie, that's rough. Now again, plastic surgeon, not neurosurgeon, but I do know that they're right, pituitary adenomas are usually benign. Your Prince Charming will survive to bestow upon you True Love's Kiss."

"Do you know if it could have any long-term effects?" He waits, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, for his brother's answer as Gabriel hums thoughtfully.

"I mean, if it was messing with his smell or sight there's always the possibility of long-term damage. Not total loss, but one or both of those might not be 100%. Hormonally, it'll probably cause one type of problem or another. Depending on what kind of damage it causes his pituitary, he may have to take supplements for the rest of his life. You'll just have to wait and see which hormones are affected, y'know?"

"So it could interfere with bonding hormones," Castiel replies, managing to keep his voice steady despite his internal state of panic.

Gabriel sighs. "It could, yeah. I mean, there are a ton of things it could mess up, and that's just one option. But there are therapies for that."

"Assuming he would want those therapies, if the hormone change erases all this feelings for me." Castiel tries not to sound bitter, but fails.

"Erase is a strong word. You two have been doing this dance for two months now. I know you care about him, Cassie. Really care, beyond wanting to stick your knot in him and claim him. Do you really think his feelings for you are still completely hormone-driven?" Cas can tell from Gabriel's tone that he already knows the answer. Castiel tells him about their conversation earlier today.

"Holy shit. So you guys are gonna do it? The teeth-to-neck tango? That's great, little bro! When do I get to meet my new brother-in-law?"

" _Gabriel_ ," Castiel warns, "can we deal with the fact that your _potential_ _future_ brother-in-law is currently in the hospital with a brain tumor that may render this entire conversation moot?"

"Aw, c'mon, the guy's in love with you."

"Our entire scent bond may have been based on hormones caused by a tumor!" Okay, so sometimes Gabriel's level head can be more infuriating than reassuring.

"So what if it was? You just told me that you both agreed that your feelings now aren't hormonal. Face it, you managed to charm your way into his pants, not smell your way in."

"Yes, our feelings right now are not exclusively the result of our spontaneous scent bond. But if the hormones that caused the bond were the result of the tumor and go away once it's corrected, won't our alphasine take over? Couldn't _that_ cancel out anything else?"

"Cassie, you know there's no point in coming up with worst-case scenarios just so you can wallow in 'em. Chances are he'll probably just need hydrocortisone replacements or something. And anyhow, if he feels the way I can tell you do, he's not gonna dump your ass just for being stinky and maybe making him grumpy when you walk in the room, not if he knows _why_ those things are happening. Yeah, you might have to avoid him for a couple more weeks while the replacements get set up, but you crazy kids will be biting each others' necks before you know it."

Against his better judgment, Castiel does feel comforted. They talk for a few more minutes, and he promises to let Gabe know how Dean's surgery goes.

Twenty minutes later, he finds a parking spot on the street near the University of Kansas Medical Center, which is so far from the rest of the University of Kansas that it is literally almost in Missouri—he missed a turn the first time by one block and wound up crossing the state line. Luckily, Charlie had arrived fifteen minutes before him and just as he was approaching called to let him know which building Dean is in, so he doesn't have to bother going in the front entrance and can park near the correct building instead of the main garage.

He's directed to the appropriate waiting room and can see Charlie's red hair pacing as he walks down the hallway. She looks up as he approaches and gives him a relieved smile. He realizes once he gets in the room that Jo is also there, curled in a chair off to one side and texting someone.

Charlie runs up to him, grabbing him into a fierce hug. "Cas! I'm so glad you're here. _Dean_ will be so glad you're here." Distress is coming off of her in waves, omega distress, and he knows he probably isn't much better. He wraps his arms around her tiny frame, instinctually wanting to comfort. Even without any sort of bond or attraction, their pheromones will be a comfort to each other simply because their bodies will understand that they are not alone in their situation.

"I'm so glad Dean was with friends when this happened," he says.

"Oh my god, I know! What if he'd been driving or something? He's gonna be fine, though, he's gonna be totally okay." She takes a deep breath and steps back, giving him a sheepish little smile. "Man, I'm glad you're here for my sake, let alone Dean's. We'll have to talk to the doctor but I honestly think you being here will help way more than hurt."

"I guess we'll see," he says, shrugging. Jo finally looks up from her phone, apparently having just noticed his presence since she couldn't smell him approach. She grins at him, not looking at all as upset as Charlie.

"Loverboy showed, huh," she teases. "Now remember, no jumping his bones in the hospital bed. And no letting him jump yours, either."

"I think I can keep that in mind," he reassures her with a small smile, and she goes back to her phone.

"She doesn't seem very upset," he notes in a hushed voice.

"Oh she is, she's just really good at hiding it under all that badass bravado. She's worse than Dean about that. She could hardly say a word until the doctor told us he wasn't dying."

He nods, but feels a stab through his heart at the thought that his mate could have been dying and he had no idea. As he takes an uncomfortable seat, it suddenly feels more vital than ever that they form a blood bond, get married, wear rings. He wants to be the first person anyone contacts if anything happens to Dean. He should have been at the hospital with him in Lawrence.

As though reading his mind (or maybe his scent), Charlie sits down next to him.

"I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner," she murmurs quickly, "it all just happened so fast. One minute he's a little dizzy, and five minutes later he can only see half the room! None of us really thought about anything but getting him to the hospital, and Dean went into super-Dean-mode and kept trying to talk about who would work at the frakking store for the next few days if he was gone. I guess trying to focus on things he can control instead of the fact that his brain might have been exploding? Then we got to the ER and apparently a dude going blind all of a sudden is high priority, because they whisked him away for an MRI in like seconds, and Jo and I were pretty much just sitting there panicking until they came out to tell us what was up. They let us see him for a little while before they started the process of moving him here, and pretty much the first thing he asked was whether we'd called you, because he was supposed to call you when he got off work and you'd be worried if you didn't hear from him." 

She laughs, although her eyes are watery. "I had to point out to him that, him being in the hospital with a brain tumor and all, you might worry a little even if we did call you. But it's totally our fault you didn't know about this sooner. You're his mate, Cas, the obvious thing to do should have been to have Jody or Marie call you as soon as Jo and I left with him."

"It's fine," he says gently. And it is. "Obviously getting Dean to the hospital needed to be everyone's first priority. You called me as soon as you had actual news to share, and I was saved having to panic, thinking he was dying. Of course I wish I could have been there to comfort him, but…" He sighs. "Again, I don't know if my presence will be a comfort right now or not."

"Even if you can't go in to see him, knowing you're out here will mean the world to him." She leans her head on his shoulder, and he's touched by the familiarity of the gesture. "Trust me."

"He means the world to me," Castiel murmurs. Charlie pats his knee and sighs, then appears to turn her attention to the television quietly playing in the corner, keeping her head on his shoulder. He takes out his phone and pulls up a novel he's in the middle of for a class, and they sit in companionable silence.

There's no one else in the waiting room, which puts Castiel at ease. Ten minutes after he arrives, a janitor comes by with Phero-Kleer, sprays the air, mops, wipes down all the surfaces with it. Charlie turns her nose into his shoulder for a moment so she can keep his scent, and he isn't ashamed to sniff her hair in return.

Ten minutes after that, a gruff voice makes them all look up.

"You people all look like you just found out your best friend has a brain tumor." The short man sporting a beard and trucker cap looks distinctly like he doesn't find his own joke funny at all, and was probably just trying to avoid saying anything emotional.

Jo flies out of her chair and flings her arms around the new arrival. Charlie is sitting up and stretching, and mouths "Bobby" to Castiel, who nods and gives her a grateful smile. He'd assumed that was who this is, but it's best to not make an ass out of himself.

"Had to talk your mom down from closing up the bar completely tonight to come down here," he's telling Jo. "Not like there's a whole hell of a lot for us to do tonight, anyhow, if the surgery's not 'til morning, and we don't wanna wear the poor guy out with a string of visitors."

"Yeah, she's been texting me. She's not real happy with you. You shoulda let her come, Bobby."

"The last thing Dean needs is to feel like he's responsible for the bar losing a night of income. And you tell me that idiot wouldn't do just that."

"He's gonna feel bad enough that he was irresponsible enough to go and let his tumor hemorrhage so he can't be at the store for a few days," Charlie chimes in. Then she turns to Castiel and pokes him. "It's your job to not let him beat himself up, got it?"

He nods. "I'll do my best," he says, though he knows it will be an uphill battle.

Bobby looks at Castiel like he just noticed him there. Castiel realizes suddenly that he has no idea whether Bobby knows about Dean and him. He was there when Dean told Sam, of course, and he knows Dean was planning on telling their parents soon, but he's not sure if that's happened yet. Dean wouldn't have told Bobby and Ellen before his parents, but given that Jo knows, Castiel thinks there's at least a chance that she told Bobby at some point. But he can't be certain.

Either way, time to make a good first impression. He stands and extends his hand.

"Castiel Novak."

Bobby eyes him suspiciously, and he still can't tell what the man knows. But Bobby does shake his hand. "Bobby Singer."

"I'm very sorry we had to meet under these circumstances, Mr. Singer." He realizes now that Jo's eyes are wide and her face pale, and he's pretty damn sure Bobby doesn't know.

"Yeah. Me, too." Castiel notices that the man makes no move to ask that he call him Bobby, and files that away so that he doesn't slip up and show disrespect. "I'm even more sorry that I have no idea who the hell you are or why you're here, or why when I called Sam to tell him his damn brother was in the hospital with a brain tumor, the first thing he did after he had all the details was ask me whether anyone had called _you_ yet. And when I asked him who the hell Castiel was, he just started stammering like an idiot, muttering something about it's not really his place to tell me. So why don't you tell me, _Castiel_ ," he says the name as though he doesn't even trust that it's real, "just who in the hell you are?"

Castiel can feel his cheeks burning. He knows that Dean is out to his family, including Bobby, and that the man is unlikely to be upset by their being an alpha/alpha couple. Dean was only holding off on telling people because he didn't want anyone getting excited on his behalf if it wasn't going to work out, not because he thought they would be upset. So now that they've decided that it _will_ work out (assuming the tumor doesn't destroy everything), he supposes there's no real reason _not_ to tell Bobby, except that he knows Dean would rather tell him himself. But it's really not fair to sit here and refuse to give the man any information when he's already clearly stressed out about Dean. He glances at Charlie and Jo. They are wearing nearly identical sympathetic winces.

"Just tell him the whole thing," Charlie says, "Dean was gonna tell everyone soon anyhow. I mean, obviously." She shrugs. Jo is nodding miserably.

Castiel takes a deep breath and looks Bobby in the eye, since he seem like the sort of man who would appreciate that.

"I'm Dean's mate. And I'm also very sorry that you had to find that out like this, and that Dean didn't get a chance to tell you himself. That… should have been a much happier announcement." He hopes that Bobby can see the very real regret on his face.

"Sorry, I thought you just said you were Dean's _mate_. But a beta wouldn't call it that, you're too tall to be an omega, and an alpha couldn't—wait, can you?" Bobby suddenly looks more confused than suspicious or angry.

Castiel is blushing again, and he shrugs sheepishly. "Apparently we can. We didn't know it was possible, either, but it was a spontaneous scent bond."

"When was this?"

Castiel closes his eyes for a moment, knowing the man wouldn't like this part. "We discovered the scent bond approximately two months ago." He ignores Bobby's outraged "What?" and keeps explaining. "Obviously, it was confusing for both of us to have a bond like that with another alpha. We weren't sure we wanted to act on it, and I was traveling at the time so we decided to keep in touch but not meet physically again until we'd made a firm decision. We actually," he can feel emotion trying to clog his throat, and he finally looks Bobby in the eye again, figuring the sincerity of his emotions would help, "we had just decided earlier today that we definitely do want to meet and establish a blood bond. We were going to do that sometime in the next couple of days. Obviously, Dean didn't want to get his family's hopes up about a bond that he might not act on, but I know that he intended to tell you soon now that we've decided."

Bobby still looks suspicious and upset, but there's something else in his face, too, something complicated that gives Castiel hope that maybe he won't be facing the wrong end of a shotgun tonight. Then Bobby turns and looks at Jo, and shoots glares at both her and Charlie.

"How long have you two known about this?"

Charlie raises a hand delicately. "I kinda knew the day after it happened. Pretty sure I was the only one Dean told for a while, though."

"Yeah, I didn't know until a month ago, when Castiel moved to Lawrence for school," Jo says, head ducked defensively. "He only told the rest of us employees about it because Cas is an author, and they met 'cause he did a signing at the store, so since they were trying to stay away from each other he didn't want us, like, running into him on campus and trying to get him to come to a store event or something." She holds up her hands. "I didn't even know they'd decided to go through with it until we'd already gotten Dean to the hospital and Dean was freaking out 'cause we hadn't called Cas yet. Apparently Dean told Red here about _that_ like the second they got off the phone this afternoon." She raises an eyebrow at Charlie, who gives her a friendly smirk.

Bobby takes off his hat and runs a hand down his face before putting it back on.

"Well, under the circumstances it'd probably be in poor taste for me to hold a grudge. Believe you me, Dean's gonna get his ass handed to him soon as the damn kid can see again, Ellen'll see to that if I don't, but not like it's your fault we didn't know. But, uh. For now, welcome to the family, I guess." Bobby shrugs, and the welcome is definitely a slightly grudging one, but Castiel will most definitely take it. It's more than he was expecting.

"Thank you, Mr. Singer, that means a lot to me—"

"Aw hell, go ahead 'n call me Bobby, you ain't some teenage kid picking him up for prom. So you write books, huh?" Bobby sits himself down in the chair across from Castiel's. Castiel sits as well and allows himself to be interrogated.

An hour after Castiel arrived, Bobby has stopped questioning him and seems to have decided to let him live for the moment. They've all settled into a worried silence, reading various magazines or staying occupied on their phones, but as the minutes tick on with no word from a doctor the atmosphere has gotten more tense.

Finally, a woman with dark hair and a lab coat comes into the waiting room, and everyone immediately stands up expectantly. Her face breaks into a grin that looks sincere enough to put Castiel at ease.

"I assume you're all here for Winchester? Glad to see Dean has so many people looking out for him. I'm Dr. Pamela Barnes, Dean's neuroendocrinologist." 

A round of hand-shaking ensues, during which Castiel asks, "Are you the one who will be operating on him?"

"Oh no," she says, raising her eyebrows and wiggling her fingers, "these hands may have many talents, but staying steady enough to poke at people's brains is not one of them. I'm not the surgeon, but I'm the one who will be making most of the decisions and monitoring Dean's progress both now and after the surgery. I assume you're Castiel?"

It's his turn to shake her hand anyhow, so he agrees as he does so, a bit surprised to be singled out.

Her grin is sly as she—is Dean's doctor _checking him out_? "He won't shut up about you. I'd be surprised that you're as pretty as he claims, but I guess you'd have to be to land that one." Her tone switches instantly to professional. "You and I will be chatting quite a bit over the next couple of days, but for now I'm sure you're all eager for an overview. I think the folks in Lawrence gave you the basics, but I'll start from the beginning just to make sure we don't miss anything. Dean has a tumor growing on his pituitary gland. The vast majority of these are benign, although we will test it once we get it out just in case. Many pituitary tumors never cause any problems, and it sounds like his hadn't until today, when it somehow sprung a leak, letting blood in and making it grow much faster than it should. When that happens, we call it a pituitary apoplexy. That gave him a headache, then pressed on his olfactory nerves hard enough to mess with his sense of smell, and finally started pressing on his optic nerves and causing his vision to go."

They all nod, having heard all of this already.

"Now, like I said, a lot of pituitary tumors don't cause any problems, and even if they do most of the time they can be controlled medically with steroids, replacement hormones, things like that. Even some cases of apoplexy can take more of a wait-and-see approach before going to surgery. But obviously, when vision is involved, we don't want to take any chances, and same for smell when we're dealing with an alpha or omega. Research shows that his best chance of getting his vision back is having surgery within 48 hours of the onset of the vision symptoms. It's actually a good thing that his vision went so quickly, because it got him rushed to the ER. You'd be surprised how long some people will walk around seeing double before they admit they need to get to a doctor, and by the time they can get to a pituitary surgeon there's been permanent damage. You guys with me so far? Questions?"

They all indicate that she should keep going.

"Right now Dean's being pumped full of yummy steroids, and they're not going to help him out in the gym but they are reducing the swelling a little to keep things under control until the surgery. He's seeing better already, and his sense of smell is starting to improve, too, although neither of them are going to be anywhere near 100% until we get that tumor out of there. We've got his surgery scheduled for bright and early tomorrow, 8am with Dr. Lee, who is very experienced with this particular type of surgery. The procedure itself is what's known as transsphenoidal surgery, which is a very fancy way of saying that she'll be getting to his pituitary via the nasal cavity."

Dr. Barnes pauses in anticipation of their reaction to this. Right on cue, they all murmur some kind of shock or disbelief.

"They're seriously gonna go up his nose?" Jo asks incredulously.

Dr. Barnes smiles and turns her clipboard to face them, revealing a diagram of the brain as seen from the bottom.

"The pituitary gland is this tiny little lump right here. Now, we could saw his skull open and dig through pretty much the entire brain to get there. But luckily, there happens to be a ready-made hole in your skull behind your nose, and the sphenoid bone behind that also has holes in it. And the pituitary is pretty close to those holes. So no sawing and no digging through delicate grey matter. It'll be done endoscopically, which means she'll only have to make a few tiny cuts to stick a camera and a few tiny surgical tools up in there. He won't be allowed to blow his nose for a few weeks, but overall it's a pretty straightforward and low-risk procedure, especially for something inside your skull."

"But not no-risk, I assume," Bobby says, voicing exactly what Castiel was wondering.

She shakes her head. "No surgery is ever without risk. The odds of anything life-threatening happening are extremely low, but not zero. The most likely long-term complication is hormone deficiencies, because removing a mass that's stuck to the pituitary is likely to at least cause a little damage to it at the tumor site, but he can take replacements for those." She glances at Castiel, holding his gaze for barely a beat before she continues. "No matter what hormones we're talking about." He supposes he shouldn't be surprised that she can anticipate his worries about bonding hormones. "There are other possible complications, which I've gone over with Dean and will go over again, and which we will be monitoring for during and after the surgery, for the next few weeks. I think that's about everything you need to know for now. Any questions?"

Castiel has a million questions, but they're not ones he wants to ask in front of the others or without Dean.

When they all just sort of look at each other awkwardly, she smiles broadly. "In that case, I think he'd appreciate a few visitors. Although he'd like to see you alone, Castiel, for a few minutes before the others come in, if that's all right."

"Of course," he murmurs, caught between being pleased and touched by the request and embarrassed that he's being given any sort of preferential treatment above these people who have known Dean for years. Especially Bobby. But the other three are very understanding.

"He's the guy with the brain tumor, I think he calls the shots here," Bobby says, sounding more amused than offended. Castiel relaxes a little. Then he remembers.

"So, it's—it's safe for me to go in with him right now? The hormonal response won't cause additional problems? Because he—well, we haven't been exposed to each other's pheromones in two months…"

Dr. Barnes smiles gently. "Dean explained your… unique situation to me."

Castiel can't help snorting. "The part where we're both alphas, or the part where we formed a spontaneous scent bond, then haven't seen each other in two months and haven't formed a blood bond yet?"

The doctor chuckles, nodding. "All of the above. Though honestly I'd say the second is more unique than the first. You're not the first alpha/alpha couple I've seen. But the upshot is, no matter what the situation he will benefit from having his mate with him. He still can't smell very well, so he might not consciously be able to smell your scent, but the pheromones themselves are detected by the vemeronasal organ and then routed to the olfactory bulb by a different bundle of nerves than the one that the tumor is pressing on, so even if he thinks he can't smell you, your pheromones will have a calming effect. I know that spontaneous scent bonds are a way stronger hormonal rush than usual, but a release of hormones by itself won't have any effect on the tumor."

Castiel nods, and then follows her down the hall.

Once they're out of earshot of the others, she winks and leans close to say quietly, "And trust me, between the two of you you're probably giving off a dozen types of distress pheromones, so there's pretty much no chance of the bonding hormones having an aphrodisiac effect tonight for either of you. But on the off chance that they do, I officially do not recommend getting it on while one of you has a bleeding tumor in his head and is hooked up to an IV and monitors."

Castiel snorts. "It's the furthest thing from my mind, believe me. But I am glad to hear the hormones won't cause any confusion there."

As they approach Dean's room, Castiel realizes he's nervous. He'd really wanted his reunion with Dean to be more… well, pick any positive attribute and he wanted it to be more of that than this will be. He imagines awkward silences, awkward attempts at comfort, general awkwardness all around.

But then they get to Dean's door, and before Dr. Barnes has even knocked on it, the scent hits him. Not just his mate, but his mate terrified and in pain, and any nerves melt away instantly. It doesn't matter if neither of them knows what to say—all that matters is that he needs to be with Dean.

As she opens the door, Dr. Barnes looks at him knowingly, and he wonders how much of that is broadcast on his face. "You boys let us know when you're ready for the others," she says.

[ ](https://41.media.tumblr.com/177febda3670dd57a4688518e63797a7/tumblr_nwuz7l4L521u7e6oqo1_1280.jpg)

"Dean," he breathes as he steps into the room. God, Dean is beautiful. Even in a hospital gown with wires and tubes attached to him, his face slightly ashy from the evening's events. He's radiant.

Dean's bed is tilted up so that he can sit upright, and he'd been sitting with his head leaned back against it and his eyes closed, probably savoring his first moment of relative peace since this whole thing started. But as soon as he hears Castiel's voice his eyes spring open.

"Cas? Cas!" He tries to look in Cas's direction, squints, moves his head around a bit like he's trying to aim his eyes properly, then growls and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. Frustration joins the other layers of emotion in his scent, and Castiel quickly crosses the room to sit by his bed, moving in as close to Dean as he can.

"How is your vision?" He asks softly, taking one of Dean's hands in his when it drops from his face. Dean keeps his eyes closed.

"Shitty. Better than it was, but still shitty. I've got, like, tunnel vision. Everything's black except a bit in the middle, and the stuff in that part looks like I'm drunk half the time, although that kinda comes and goes. And I just keep having this urge to wipe away the black stuff that's in the way, but of course that's not gonna work, which just pisses me off more." He laughs, somewhat bitterly. "Now that I know this isn't gonna kill me, I'm mostly just pissed at it."

Castiel can smell that that's not the only thing he's feeling, but there's no reason to point that out. Before he can say anything, Dean lifts Cas's hand and covers his nose with it, inhaling deeply.

"Ohhhhh, thank fuck," Dean sighs, "I can just barely smell you. I was gonna throw a fucking fit if I couldn't smell you at all."

"Dr. Barnes said that even if you couldn't smell me, your brain would still be processing the pheromones," Castiel says, positively enchanted by the sight of Dean taking deep breaths of his hand, "but I'm glad you can smell me anyhow. It wouldn't be fair for me to have all the fun."

Dean grins. "Yeah, I bet I smell great. Sorry your first whiff of me in months is pretty much pure distress."

"I can't imagine I'm much better," Cas admits, "although Charlie and I managed to calm each other down a little by stinking at each other out in the waiting room, so maybe it's not as bad as earlier."

Dean laughs, kissing all over Cas's hand. Already, he can smell Dean's pheromones changing, settling down, smoothing out. He can't imagine ever getting enough of them.

"Okay, I'm gonna try and look at you again, but if my eyes cross you're not allowed to laugh at me."

"I would never," Castiel vows.

Dean opens his eyes and turns his face toward Castiel with a determined expression. His eyes do start to cross a little, but he blinks a few times and seems to fix it. Finally, he manages to lock eyes with Castiel for a few seconds, and smiles.

"Good, you're still hot," he quips, but then closes his eyes again, rubbing at them. "Unfortunately, you're also surrounded by black shit."

"You'll be able to see me just fine tomorrow," Castiel says quietly, reaching out to caress Dean's face. Dean puts a hand over his and turns into his palm, sniffing again.

"I guess we should probably let the other yahoos in here," he murmurs into Castiel's hand. "Dr. Barnes wants to talk to the two of us together after they're gone, though. I'm assuming about how this might affect my hormones. Including, y'know. Bonding hormones."

Castiel swallows. "I'll admit I've been wondering about that."

"Me too, but she wanted you to be here for that conversation. She also said you can sleep here, if you want. The armchair in the corner folds out. But it's probably not very comfy, so if you wanna go home or get a hotel—"

"Dean Winchester, do not even suggest that I have any intention of leaving your side for one moment," he says, quietly but firmly. "I wouldn't be able to get to sleep anywhere but here, anyhow, even if I wanted to. Which I don't."

Dean lets out a shaky breath, and Castiel sees his lip tremble minutely before he swallows and gets it under control. "I love you. God, I love you."

"I love you, too. More than anything." Even having spent all evening thinking about it, it surprises him anew how true it is.

A few minutes later, Castiel goes back out to the waiting room to invite the others in. Even leaving the room for that long feels wrong. As they crowd around the bed, he stays off to one side, but can't bring himself to stray far enough away that he can't hold Dean's hand. Dean certainly doesn't seem to want him to.

The other three only get about fifteen minutes before Dr. Barnes comes back in.

"Okay, our patient needs his beauty sleep before the big day, and I still have a few things I need to go over with him and his mate. The rest of you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."

They say their goodbyes, and Castiel promises to call them as soon as Dean is out of surgery, adding Bobby and Jo's phone numbers to his cell.

Once they're gone, Dr. Barnes pulls up a chair to sit with the two of them.

"So. We need to talk about hormones. I'm sure you're both wondering if this will have any affect on Dean's bonding hormones, and on your relationship." Castiel appreciates her directness. "The short answer is, maybe. The longer answer is, it's complicated. Most patients who get this surgery do need some form of hormone replacement, often for life. Which hormones they need depends on the exact placement of the tumor and how much damage is done to the pituitary while removing it. Obviously, Dr. Lee will do as much as she can to cause as little damage as possible, but it's a very common side effect of having something cut off of the gland. We've taken all sorts of measurements of your baseline hormone levels, and we'll be monitoring them in the hours and days after the procedure to see if anything falls. You might need hydrocortisone, you might need testosterone, you might need alphasine. And yes, you might need new bonding hormones. The good news is, we can use Castiel's blood to synthesize the exact combination of hormones that is forming your current scent bond. It'll take a few days, but then you two would be as good as new. But, unfortunately, it's more complicated than that."

Dean holds Cas's hand tighter as she continues.

"I'm gonna get all the bad news out of the way at once here. Basically, _if_ your pituitary stops producing the bonding hormones, the two of you will still make the same pheromones you're making today, at least for now. But Dean's body will stop reacting to your pheromones, Castiel. Your body will still react to his. So Dean will not get the hormone surge you're both currently getting from being in each other's presence. The added complication, of course, is that you're both alphas. And unless Dean's alphasine is _also_ affected, he'll still respond to your alpha pheromones the way he would any other alpha. The combination would probably cause his pheromones to change over the course of a couple of weeks until you are no longer reacting to his in the same way, either."

Castiel's heart is hammering in his chest. This is everything he feared—they finally decide to put aside their biological reactions and act on their legitimate feelings for each other, only to have those same reactions push them back apart.

"Now, given my line of work, I see a _lot_ of spontaneous scent bonds."

"Why?" Dean breaks in. "Does that make shit like this more likely? I've never heard anyone say they're dangerous."

"No, a spontaneous scent bond is absolutely no riskier than any other bond. However, I'm sure you've heard the general advice that if you can't get a blood bond to take after a couple weeks, see a doctor? And in the case of an SSB, if you try once a day for three days in a row, see a doctor, because under normal conditions those bonds should take quite easily. Now, for the most part that advice is just to make sure your scent bond is actually strong enough to support a blood bond and rule out other problems, but obviously sometimes those other problems don't get ruled out. A whole lot of people don't know they have anything wrong with their pituitary until they try to form a blood bond and can't. And that's when I see them.

"So, what I see in terms of spontaneous scent bonds is kinda bad news and kinda good news, so I'm just going to file it under 'making the situation even more complicated.' Once you hear the bad news, don't panic until I give you the good news, got it?" She waits until they nod to continue. "The bad part is that, in my experience, a lot of patients with a spontaneous scent bond choose to give up the bond rather than start the replacement bonding hormones. Far more often than those who have a traditional scent bond. And of the four alpha/alpha couples I've seen where one partner had to undergo this surgery after an SSB but before they form a blood bond, all four broke up. That's a tiny sample size, of course, but I know it's a common trend overall."

They're clinging to each other's hands now, and Dean leans over to bury his nose in Cas's hair. Castiel feels sick, and he can smell that Dean is in the same state.

 _"However_ ," Dr Barnes continues, "here's why you shouldn't panic. Like I said, the recommendation is that if you can't form a blood bond in three days, see a doctor. That means that nearly all of the couples I see in this position have known each other for less than a week. They're basically strangers who are only together because of the hormones, so when those hormones are gone, there's nothing keeping them together except maybe a sense of duty or responsibility. Some of the alpha/alpha couples were actually _relieved_ to have a way of getting rid of the bond. From what I understand, that's not the case with you two."

"No way," Dean mutters, wrapping an arm around Cas to try and pull him even closer. There's not much closer they can get without Castiel getting into the hospitable bed, but he tries.

"We know each other quite well by now," Cas says, gazing at his mate. "The hormones are nice, but they're not why we've chosen to be together."

When he looks back, Dr. Barnes is smiling. "That's what I thought. Other than being two alphas, I get the sense that you two are more like a couple with a traditional scent bond. People who know and truly care about each other, and who are willing to hang on to what you've got until the hormonal problem can be worked out. It'll be harder, being alphas, because chances are you won't be able to physically spend time together until we get the replacements synthesized. Sounds like you two are used to that, although being apart while Dean is recovering from surgery will suck. 

"Bottom line is," she says as she stands up, " _if_ Dean's bonding hormones are affected, and that's a big if still, it'll be up to you two how we proceed. Obviously, we can't take your blood to make the replacements without your permission, Castiel, and then we can't give them to Dean without his permission, so you both have to agree that you want to keep the bond. I suggest you talk it over tonight and have a plan in place for how you want to proceed tomorrow if it does happen, because you probably don't want to wait until Dean's getting all alpha-aggressive to work this out. Questions?"

"Yes, actually," Castiel speaks up. "Is it possible—this tumor has probably been there for a while, right? Could it have been affecting the bond from the beginning? Even… caused the bond?" He can tell from the suddenly blank look on Dean's face that Dean hadn't even thought of that possibility.

"Technically, it's possible, but in this case it's _extremely_ unlikely." Castiel feels his stomach unclench from a tightness he's been holding on to for so long tonight that he'd stopped noticing it. "For one thing, that could only happen if the tumor itself is secreting hormones. But based on the hormone levels in Dean's blood, I see no reason to think that this one is producing any hormones on its own, which about a quarter of them don't. Even if it is, it would have to _just happen_ to be secreting the exact hormones necessary to produce the pheromones that led to your bond. And yes, I have seen that happen once or twice, but it's usually pretty obvious. You know how they say a spontaneous scent bond only happens because the two people are incredibly compatible to begin with? Well, every time I've seen a tumor cause it, the two people involved have had very little in common and would probably never have even become friends or dated if left to their own devices. Those are always cases where they choose to give up the bond after surgery, because they know that it shouldn't have been there to begin with. Now you tell me, do you think that describes you two?"

"'Course not," Dean answers for him. "I mean, even before we got to know each other, it was kinda obvious that we probably wouldn't hate each other. An author and a bookstore owner? We're like a walking cliche." He turns and nuzzles behind Cas's ear. 

"Like I told you, we're not your parents," he murmurs for only Cas to hear. "This is real." Castiel nods, fighting back tears again.

Castiel has her explain exactly what medications Dean is currently on, and what medications and tests he'll need after the surgery, in as much detail as possible while he enters all the information into a note on his phone. He wants to make sure that if there are any changes to the plan, he and Dean understand what they are and why they're happening, and not wind up having a test skipped or medication switched out by accident. Dean makes a cheeky comment about his alpha taking such good care of him, and since he wouldn't be able to see a glare properly Castiel has to reach over and smack his head lightly.

"You two have nothing to worry about," Dr. Barnes says as she turns to leave, "You're disgustingly in love. Oh! I almost forgot. More good news—even if the worst happens, you may not need hormone replacements for the bond forever. Establishing a blood bond slightly changes which hormones are involved, so it might shift to ones you're still producing yourself. Of course, I don't recommend the kind of strenuous activities needed for a blood bond for at least a few days after the surgery. Assuming you two can keep your paws off each other that long." She gives them a wink as she heads for the door. "The nurses will be in at 10 to change out your IV and get your vitals, then again at 2 and 6. They'll try not to wake you up, but they're not always good at it, so you two catch some sleep while you can. See you in the morning!"

As soon as the door is closed and they're alone, Dean is tugging Cas by the arm. "Get in here with me. How long do we have 'til the nurses show up?"

Castiel glances at the clock on the wall. "An hour, but… are you sure that's allowed?"

"No, but there'll be no one to yell at us for another hour and if it's gonna be another week before I can fuck my god damned mate I better at least get to cuddle him as much as I damn well please." Dean puts on a show of looking and sounding grumpy, but Castiel can smell the longing mixed with the fear in his scent. He has to go around to the other side, but he manages to fit onto the bed in such a way that he's not disturbing the IV or blood oxygen monitor.

Dean immediately buries his face in the side of Cas's throat, breathing deeply with a hum of contentment. Castiel wraps his arms around his mate, stroking and kissing his hair. Despite the fear coursing through both of them, it's the first time they've been able to share such a tender intimacy, and Castiel prays that he gets to keep it, have this every day for the rest of his life. A warm thread of contentment runs through Dean's scent and Castiel knows it's reflected in his own.

"What do you think of what the doc said?" Dean eventually mumbles.

"Not the best news possible, obviously, but she's right that we should have a plan in place. No matter what, I will never abandon you, Dean. But in the end, it's going to be your decision, really. You're the one who'll have to take replacement hormones." Castiel knows what Dean will say to this, but he needs to hear it.

"The hormones didn't make fall in love with you, Cas, and they can't chase me away, either. If I start gettin' all alpha-y on you, it's not like I won't notice it's happening. I know what it feels like to hang out with an alpha that I would totally get along with if I didn't want to growl at 'em. I'm not gonna suddenly think I hate you, babe. I'll tell you what's happening, they'll take a blood sample, and you'll head home. And then we'll keep on talking on the phone and shit exactly like we have been until they get the replacements ready. But damn, am I gonna miss this now that we got to have it for a bit." He nuzzles further in, kissing Castiel's neck lightly. "I hope we don't have to deal with it, but if we do, we'll be fine."

Castiel nods into Dean's hair. "You're right, of course. I don't actually believe that I dislike every alpha I come across. Well, maybe when I was fourteen I did, but I was a rather surly teenager." Dean laughs, and the rumble of it against him is something Castiel wants to bottle up and carry with him. "What's really important is that we do whatever is necessary to make you healthy again. Though I must admit that I am very thankful we had that talk today, Dean. This would be a much more confusing process if we hadn't clarified our feelings for each other."

"Man, no kidding." Dean tightens his arms around Castiel's waist, pulling him closer and sliding a leg over his. "I can't believe that was today, jesus. What a fucking day."

Castiel hums in agreement, and they fall into a comfortable silence. Castiel lets himself be swallowed up by the scent and feel of his mate wrapped around him, a feeling of belonging settling into his bones, like he's fallen into a little niche carved just for him that nobody had bothered to tell him about before this moment. The idea of having to avoid Dean again, even for a few days, almost physically hurts, so he tries not to think about it.

They doze lightly until the sound of someone at the door startles them awake. Castiel scrambles back out of the bed just in time for the nurse to come in with new bags for the IV. She's an omega, and after she's replaced the bags and made some small talk while checking Dean's vitals, she turns to Castiel.

"I'm sorry, but visitors other than immediate family can't spend the night. You can come back first thing in the—"

"He's my mate and he's not going anywhere," Dean growls, glaring at the nurse despite the fact that he can probably only sort of see her.

Her eyes widen, and she scents the air again. Castiel knows they both smell like mated alphas, but that there's no way to tell they're mated _to each other_ by scent.

"Sir, I don't appreciate your attempts to get around our rules. Your friend is clearly an alpha, and honestly it's probably not even healthy for him to be your room with you—"

"I _am_ his mate," Castiel says calmly before Dean can explode with the rage that's clearly building, "talk to his doctor, she can confirm it. If it needs to go in his chart so that we're not disturbed again, then please do that." Smelling a wave of disapproval flow off of her, he adds, "Dr. Barnes said that she's treated several alpha couples before, so I'm sure that the hospital administration will be disappointed to find that their staff hasn't been appropriately trained to allow for such cases."

"What he means is, back the fuck off before we slap this hospital with a discrimination lawsuit with your name on it."

Castiel takes Dean's hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumbs, and smells his mate calm slightly.

"I'll ask Dr. Barnes if she's approved this," the nurse finally says, making it clear that she doesn't believe that the doctor has, and leaves.

Castiel climbs right back into the bed and pulls Dean close.

"We're going to be dealing with that kind of ignorance for the rest of our lives," he says softly, kissing Dean just below his ear, "I don't think it will get any easier, but hopefully over time we'll stop caring quite as much."

"Don't care what she thinks," Dean mumbles, "she just damn well better not kick you out of my room."

"I'll be right back," Castiel says, giving Dean one last peck on the cheek, "I'm going to go talk to whoever's in charge at the nurse's station, make sure she's not sent in here again and that whoever is knows what's going on. Actually, while I'm gone I should probably run to my car and get the overnight bag that I packed. Shouldn't take more than fifteen, maybe twenty minutes."

Dean pouts, but Castiel leans in and kisses him until they're both smiling. And _oh_ , does Dean's mouth taste wonderful. He's glad that Dr. Barnes is right, the hormones aren't having an aphrodisiac effect so far, but the truth is he doesn't need help from any bonding hormones to want Dean.

Luckily, the nurse who had come into Dean's room is still making the rounds, so Castiel is able to talk to the head nurse without dealing with her directly. The head nurse is very understanding and apologetic, and Castiel is assured that it won't happen again.

Ten minutes later, he's back in Dean's room with his bag.

"Get back in the bed," Dean demands. "That was the worst fifteen minutes of my life."

"I didn't enjoy it either, but I am sure that's not true," Castiel says indulgently as he carefully climbs back in.

"True," Dean grumbles as he sticks his nose back into Castiel's neck, "the night we met and I thought you'd left for good was worse."

Guilt twists Cas's heart. "You know how much I regretted that, Dean, and only moreso now that I know what I could have missed out on."

"Aw, Cas." It's Dean's turn to be soothing, reaching up to stroke Cas's face. "You know I'm just teasing. Don't smell so sad, baby. Yeah, that night sucked, but even then I understood why you did it, and it's way in the past now. What matters is that you came back and now you're stuck with me."

They kiss again, and it turns into some light making out. They're careful not to let it get too heated, keeping their hands strictly above the waist.

"We really should get some sleep, Dean," Castiel finally murmurs, though he doesn't stop kissing the spot he's found behind Dean's ear that Dean seems to enjoy so much, "especially if they're really coming back in here at two."

Dean makes a frustrated noise. "Yeah, yeah. Fuck, there's no way I'm going a day longer than I have to without getting into your pants, you know that, right?"

"I'm sure we'll work something out," Castiel tells him, starting to disentangle them. It takes a few more minutes, but eventually he gets up and starts to change into the pajamas he's brought.

"Oh no," Dean says, pointing a finger at him, "if I can't see you properly, you're changing in the bathroom. No way am I wasting my first chance to see you naked on this shitty black stuff." He waves his hand around his eyes to indicate the areas where his vision is blocked.

Castiel snorts and heads into the attached bathroom. "I wasn't going to get completely naked, my boxers would still be on, but if you insist."

Once he's changed, he helps Dean maneuver the IV into the bathroom to pee, then they brush their teeth, Castiel having brought an extra toothbrush for Dean. Soon he's pulled the armchair over to the bed and set it up so that as he's lying on it Dean can dangle an arm over the side of the hospital bed and stay in contact, because otherwise Dean was going to insist that they try to sleep in the narrow bed together. Castiel turns out the light and they both somehow manage to get to sleep, each wrapped in a cocoon of their mate's scent lulling them for the first, but far from the last, time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking slight liberties with anatomy here because omegaverse: Normally, a pituitary tumor would hit the optic nerve before the olfactory tract, and generally losing your vision gets your ass to the hospital before it would ever possibly fuck with smell. But in alphas and omegas, with their heightened sense of smell, the olfactory tract is larger and so whether a pituitary tumor hits it or the optic nerve first depends on its placement.


	12. Chapter 12

Dean wishes he didn't have to shove his nose right into Cas's skin to smell him, but he's thankful for the pheromones even if he can't actually smell them. He barely wakes up when the nurse comes in at two and is pretty sure that Cas doesn't wake up at all. Dean reaches down from his bed and runs his fingers through Cas's hair, drifting off again with his hand still on his mate.

But the nurse that comes in at six doesn't bother to keep quiet; it seems that six a.m. is wakeup time at the hospital. Dean grumbles, but is pretty sure he's awake for the day, so he pushes the buttons to make his bed bend so he can sit up.

Cas sits up while the nurse is doing her thing and Dean turns to try and get a good look. This "reduced field of vision" thing is absolute bullshit, he's decided. It's like somebody's holding a piece of cardboard in front of his eyes with a hole torn in it, and he has to aim the hole right at what he wants to look at. He has to constantly fight the impulse to try and swipe at the nonexistent cardboard. Thank god the double-vision thing seems to have gone away. At least now he can actually _see_ whatever he aims the hole at.

So it's just a matter of angling his head correctly and he can take in his sleep-rumpled mate. God, Cas really is effing gorgeous. Even with his face creased from his pillow and his hair sticking up and his eyes bleary, all he really needs is those piercing blue eyes and that scruffy-yet-chiseled jaw. Even though Dean can feel the worry and fear emanating from him, keeping his pheromones from getting Dean all turned on (and wow, it is _really weird_ to be able to sense what Cas's pheromones are telling him without actually being able to _smell_ them), he still kinda just wants to climb into his lap and start sucking on his neck. The man is just way too attractive.

As soon as the nurse is gone, Cas pulls himself up onto Dean's bed and snuggles in, head tucked in under Dean's chin and arms around his waist.

"Next time I wake up with you," he says with a yawn, voice even deeper and rougher than Dean's heard it before, "I demand that it be in the same bed."

"Hey, you're the one that turned down the chance to sleep in this super-sexy hospital bed," Dean points out. "And anyhow, we're gonna be here at least one more night, remember? Then god, I hope I get to go home with you. Can I come to your house when I get outta here, Cas? I want everything around me to smell like you."

"Of course." Cas squeezes him. "I'd like nothing better. Though we don't have to live there if you don't want to, I know it's too far for you to walk to work."

"I think somehow I'll survive," he says into Cas's hair. "You own an actual house, all I've got is a shitty apartment I've never really liked. That doesn't smell like you, did I mention that part?"

"But it smells like _you_ ," Cas points out, "so I'm sure I'd love it there. But you're right, while you're recovering we should probably stay at my place. Once everything's settled down we can look into finding somewhere that works for both of us."

"Cas, you just bought that house!"

Castiel shrugs. "Yes, and I do like it. But I can afford to sell soon and lose my closing costs if it means finding a home that we _both_ love nearer to your store."

"Well, we've got plenty of time to worry about that," Dean says. "Let's deal with getting the bleeding tumor out of my head first, right?"

Cas sits up so that he's looking right into Dean's eyes, and Dean is glad that for the most part he can actually see him. Cas strokes a hand through Dean's hair, and Dean resists the urge to close his eyes into it so he can keep looking at that endless blue.

"Your brain is the most beautiful thing about you, Dean," Cas murmurs. "Keeping it safe and healthy is my top priority."

They manage to get up, get Dean and his annoying-as-hell IV thing to the bathroom, and get both of them cleaned up and dressed. Well, Cas dressed, Dean is still stuck in the stupid hospital gown until after the surgery. It suddenly occurs to Dean that this is the first time they've done this, woken up together and gone through all their morning routine shit together, but it didn't feel like it at all. Everything about it felt so _normal_ , like they do it every day and today they just happen to have to do it in a hospital room with an IV thing stuck to Dean's arm. Dean realizes he's smiling goofily as he realizes how smoothly they fit together and how great it is that he gets to do this shit with Cas every day for the rest of their lives.

He's not the only one who notices.

"What are you smiling about?" Cas asks from where he's perched on the edge of the bed, pulling his shoes on.

"Just, y'know. Us. This. We get to do this. You get to be here with me, and if the nurse doesn't like it we can just tell her to fuck off. I get to have you help me drag this stupid-ass IV thing into the bathroom. We brushed our teeth together, how awesome is that? God, I sound like a lovesick dork, don't I?" He hides his face in his hands, but Cas pulls one of them away so he can kiss the knuckles.

"I know exactly what you mean," he says, voice thick with affection, "and I feel exactly the same way. I can't wait to do all those little everyday things with you, Dean. Make dinner together, do the dishes together. Fold our laundry together and argue about which t-shirts are whose. Curl up on the couch and inflict our television tastes on each other."

Dean laughs, but then there's a knock at the door. A moment later, a blonde woman in a white jacket comes in. Cas turns so he can sit next to Dean, though he keeps his feet off the bed now that his shoes are on. Dean will have to tell him to get those back off later.

"Mr. Winchester, hi, I'm Dr. Amanda Lee, I'll be doing your surgery this morning." She shakes Dean's hand, all business, then holds her hand out to Cas as well. "And I assume you're Mr. Novak?"

"Yes, Dean's mate," Cas says as he shakes her hand. His voice doesn't betray anything, but Dean can tell that mentally he's just daring her to make an issue of it like the nurse had.

"I just wanted to go over the details of your case with you before we get you prepped, and tell you a little bit about the followup care you'll need."

The doctor runs them through some of the same things they'd heard the night before about what the surgery entails, and lists the testing Dean will need afterward to check his pituitary function and make sure his vision and smell are returning to normal. Dean notices Cas pulling up his notes from Dr. Barnes and making sure Dr. Lee isn't leaving out any of the tests that had already been mentioned to them. All joking about being taken care of by a big, strong alpha aside, Dean is incredibly grateful that Cas is so on top of this stuff. It's the kind of thing he never expected to appreciate, but… it really does make him feel loved.

Dr. Lee explains that Dr. Barnes will be in charge of followup and what medications he receives will be up to her based on how the surgery goes and what the tests show, but tells him what he'll definitely be on right after he wakes up, which Cas again compares to his notes. Pretty soon they're telling her they don't have any more questions, and she says a nurse will be in to wheel him to the OR to get prepped soon.

Dean feels a little panicky when it hits him that Cas can't go in the OR with him, but Cas reminds him that he won't even be conscious for all that long, and then Cas will be there when he wakes up. Cas is the one who has to sit around in the waiting room for a couple of hours.

—

When Dean's eyes blink blearily open, at first he's confused. Didn't they just put him under? Did the surgery even happen? He doesn't really feel like he's been asleep—he feels like he closed his eyes for a minute and then opened them again. Then two things hit him: One, he feels like he got punched in the nose, and he can't breathe through it. Two, the black shit around his eyes is gone. He can see normally, or at least close to it, again. He breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that the surgery at least fixed one thing.

"Dean? How are you feeling?" He hears Cas's quiet voice and realizes Cas is holding his hand. Dean squeezes his mate's hand.

"I can see, so that's a plus. They did something right. Now I can stare at you all I want." Cas looks tired and worried, but damn, he's still hot. And Dean sort of can't believe that Cas is here right now. Two days ago, they were muddling through some tenuous space between friends and something more, not even totally sure if the "something more" just meant "closer friends" or "mates for life." Dean's conversation with Charlie had helped him clarify things on his end, and he'd been sorta confident that Cas felt the same way—but that didn't mean Cas would trust himself or his feelings.

He'll never tell anyone this, not even Cas, but when Cas gave Dean his address, he almost started crying. Almost. Okay, maybe like one or two tears escaped. It sucked that that moment—the moment of yes, yes I want to spend the rest of my life with you—had to be over the phone, but that was sort of the point. They had to make that decision first, and hold each other later. And by some fucking absolute miracle, Cas is here. He's Dean's mate, and he's here with him, holding his hand and stroking his hair and loving the hell out of him.

His head is still kinda fuzzy from the anesthesia and pain medication, and the next couple of hours are a blur of medical nonsense. Doctors and nurses come in and out, give him lists of what he can and can't do (if you need to sneeze, do it with your mouth open; here's a special toothbrush so you don't irritate the incision under your lip; don't bend with your head below your waist; it goes on and on), take blood sample after blood sample to see if any of his hormones are dropping, rattle off lists of tests and results and medications that Cas diligently records and Dean can barely process.

Dean is frustrated that he still can't smell anything due to the crap stuck up his nose. He's not even supposed to _breathe_ through his nose, how is he supposed to know if his sense of smell is back? More than anything, he wants to smell Cas. He knows the pheromones are still there, but he's in the hospital and kinda scared to find out what permanent damage there might be and damn it, he wants to smell his mate. They remove some of the crap to test him and find that his sense of smell _is_ working just fine, but then they put all the crap back and he grumps to Cas that he's not sure what the point of doing the test was.

During the few quiet moments, Cas texts or calls everyone to let them know the surgery went well, Dean's vision is back, we'll know more in a few hours after all these blood tests. Dean is silently glad that Cas is the only one there now; he'll be fine for visitors later today, but for now Cas is the only person he wants to see or talk to.

They find out that Dean's parents are already on the first flight to Kansas City; Sam, Jess, and the kids will be coming after they all finish work and school for the day. Dean talks to Sam himself finally, and he insists that the whole thing isn't a huge deal and they all didn't have to buy expensive last-minute plane tickets, but Sam won't hear it, of course.

"Married to a doctor, Dean, remember? Jess knows exactly how big a deal this is. That's why we didn't panic the girls by packing last night and taking the same flight mom and dad got this morning, but we _are_ coming for the weekend, so deal with it."

Given that Cas barely knows Dean's family and friends, he's ridiculously good at being the communications arm of this operation. The parents are staying at Bobby's, but when he learns that Sam is planning to get a hotel he insists (with Dean's approval) they take his two extra rooms. Apparently Dr. Barnes has told him that the more familiar pheromones Dean is surrounded by, the easier his recovery will be, and Dean can't say it sounds like a bad idea.

By the afternoon, Dean is out of the ICU and back in his regular room, he's had a decent burger for lunch instead of hospital food thanks to his mate, and he finally has a little bit of downtime from the constant barrage of blood tests and IV changes. He tugs on Cas's arm in a way that's quickly become the sign for "get into the bed with me, dammit," and soon they're wrapped around each other, his currently-nonfunctional nose buried in Cas's neck where his scent _should_ be strongest. At least Dean can pick up the tiniest of whiffs like this.

They're curled in the bed like this, chatting about when Bobby will probably arrive after picking his parents up from the airport, when it starts.

He can't get comfortable. Everywhere he moves, he feels like some part of Cas's body is in his way. He grumbles that it must be some of the pain meds messing with his mind, because he just doesn't really wanna be touched at all right now.

"That's fine, Dean, I can get out of the bed. Whatever you need," Cas says soothingly. But as he's doing so, Dean's nose winds up pressed near his neck again. And Dean gets another slight whiff of Cas's scent.

"Oh, fuck," Dean growls. Cas frowns as he settles into the armchair next to the bed.

"What is it?"

Dean looks at his mate, and he can feel the war starting inside himself. Cas's usually sweet, citrusy scent has started to turn sour. He can look at Cas and see how attractive he is, that's not a problem. And he knows—he _knows_ that this is the man that he's spent the last two months falling in love with, that he can talk to for hours, that he want to spend the rest of his life with. But right now, Dean just wants him to stay as far away as possible.

Dean sighs and runs a hand over his face.

"Go get Dr. Barnes. I think the bonding hormones are going."

Cas is obviously trying to keep his face blank as he nods and gets up, but Dean can see the fear in his eyes. It breaks his heart, but at the same time some stupid, primal part of him is glad that he's managed to scare away the other alpha. Dean kind of wants to stab that part of himself. As soon as Cas is out of the room, he looks down at his body.

"He's not a rival alpha, you dipshit, he's the best thing that's ever happened to you, and if you run him off I swear to god I'll get my fucking pituitary _removed_ so I don't have to deal with mother fucking alphasine ever again, you got it?"

A nurse comes in almost immediately to pull more blood, then a few minutes later Castiel comes back. He keeps his distance from Dean, leaning against the windowsill on the far wall instead of sitting anywhere near the bed.

"Dr. Barnes is with another patient, but they're testing your blood again to see if the hormone levels have dropped. She'll be in here with the test results as soon as she can. How are you feeling right now?" He sounds so cautious.

"Not great," Dean admits. "I'm definitely reacting to your alpha stuff. I mean, it's not like I'm gonna spring outta the bed and claw your eyes out, but part of me definitely wants you to stop talking and leave me alone. Which is really pissing me off, so now I'm pissed off at you for no reason, and pissed off at my body for a very good reason."

"I should probably go, then," Castiel says quickly, not looking at Dean. "That can't be healthy for you—"

"Cas, _stop_ ," Dean growls, and Cas freezes. He keeps his eyes down, and Dean knows it's a submissive gesture to soothe his stupid alpha brain. "At least wait until the doctor gets here, okay? She still has to take your blood for the replacement hormones, right?"

Cas nods at the floor. "Assuming you still want that, and if you don't, it's fine—"

"Don't say shit like that!" Dean yells, sort of relieved to have an actual reason to be angry at his mate. "Are you telling me you'd really be fine with that? This morning we were talking about where we're gonna live together, and now I could tell you to get out of my life forever and you'd be A-OK with that?"

Castiel closes his eyes for a second, breathing, and Dean suddenly recognizes his own terror. That maybe Cas is relieved to have an out, to have an excuse to pretend like the last two months never happened. He may be in love with Dean right now, but maybe he doesn't want to be. 

But then Cas looks his straight in the eye. "Of course I would not be fine with that. I would not be 'A-OK.' I would be devastated, Dean. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but I don't want to force that on you. If you prefer how you feel without the bonding hormones, it's your body and your decision, and I have to respect that. When I say it's fine, I'm saying that you are allowed to make whatever decision you want, and it is fine for you to do that, _not_ that I would be fine after you made the decision. But my happiness is not your responsibility."

Dean feels like crying and like punching something, like holding Cas forever and like touching him would make Dean throw up. He realizes that Cas probably should leave his room pretty soon, actually. They should be having this conversation over the phone or something. Anything to make his stupid body shut the hell up.

"Castiel Novak," he grits out. "You stupid fuck. You stupid, noble, perfect, respectful, _asshole_. We talked about this, Cas. Nothing's changed. You are my mate. You are amazing. I love you, and no stupid fucking hormones are going to tell me different. They'll make the replacements, and everything will be back to normal, and I will _finally_ get to fuck the hottest guy I've ever met, and I'll put a bite on his neck and a ring on his finger and everyone I ever meet for the rest of my life will be jealous. How can you possibly think I would prefer _this_ fucking hormonal mess to that? To you?"

Castiel is wiping at his own red eyes, and Dean is sick to his stomach at the part of himself that takes savage glee in it.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I believe you. You say that you love me and want to be with me, and I believe you. It's just very hard not to be terrified. In the past twenty-four hours I've been terrified for your life, terrified that your vision or sense of smell wouldn't recover, terrified that something would happen during the surgery. Now I'm terrified that we never should have trusted ourselves, and we're wrong about all of this, and this is where it comes crashing down. But you're right, we knew this was a possibility and we've already discussed how we'll handle it and now we're going to do that, and in a few days we can be together again."

Just then, there's a knock at the door and Dr. Barnes sweeps in, eyes on Dean's file. She glances up, her eyes flitting nervously between the two alphas.

"Well, I don't think it's going to be news to anyone in this room that your levels of the bonding hormones copulin and diligostatin have gone off the deep end. The good news is, your oxytocin and testosterone are fine, along with five other hormones that could be involved in your bond. For the record, everything else looks good, too, so cross your fingers that those are the only two that are going to give us problems. So. How do you boys want to proceed?" She keeps her face carefully neutral.

Dean keeps his eyes on Cas as he replies. He knows he probably looks angry, but he hopes Cas can see that that's not all that's left in him.

"Just like we discussed, you take his blood, synthesize the replacement hormones, and I start taking 'em. How long will it be before I'm back to normal, Doc?"

"It usually takes three to four days for the lab to analyze the blood sample and synthesize the right mix of hormones. Both of the ones you're not producing might be involved, or just one of them, we won't know 'til we get a look at your mate's blood. Then you'll be giving yourself shots once a week from now on. You heard of an epi-pen?" Dean and Cas both nod. "Same kind of thing, you just press it against your leg and push a button. Once you get that first shot, your hormone levels should be back to normal within a day.

"Now like I said, this _might_ be temporary. Once you two form a blood bond, we'll reevaluate, see what hormones are involved there. We might want to change your dosage, or you might be able to go off of it completely if the new bond doesn't use either of those. Some hormones that affect bonds, like oxytocin and testosterone, obviously you also need for other things, but there are seven that have no real use beyond scent bonding or blood bonding, and if copulin or diligostatin aren't used for your blood bond, there's really no reason for you to keep replacing them. But if they are, you'll need to keep getting the shot every week or you'll wind up feeling like this again."

"And I sure as fuck don't want that," Dean grumbles. Cas's presence is really starting to grate on him, and the fact that it is grating on him is just pissing him off more.

Dr. Barnes touches Castiel's arm gently. "Castiel, let's go get your blood drawn. Then it's probably best if you don't come back in here, so Dean's alphasine levels can go back down. I'll give you a minute to get your bag together and for you two to say goodbye, okay?"

They nod and she ducks out of the room. Cas avoids Dean's gaze as he starts shoving his things into his bag.

"Who should I pass all my notes on to?" he asks, his voice deceptively calm as he folds his pajamas. "Somebody should take point on keeping track of all of this so you don't have to, so you can concentrate on just recovering. Charlie? Your mother? Sam?"

"Oh, um, yeah," Dean can feel himself tearing up, because holy shit, he doesn't deserve someone who just wants to take such good care of him even while being kicked out of his life for a few days. "Uh, my mom'll probably want to do that. You know how moms are. After they get here and I tell them all about you and get yelled at for keeping it a secret and then she cries because her baby found his mate and everything, I'll have them get in contact with you so you can hand it all over to her. She's gonna love you, man. Sam and Jess, too, you guys'll get along great."

"Oh! Sam! Dean, you can't stay at my house." This clearly just occurred to Castiel, and he looks lost, like he's going to cry again.

"Yeah, I guess not. Shit. Can Sam and them stay with you anyhow? Do you mind?"

"Of course they can. Somebody should stay with you, though, Dean. You were going to have my pheromones and Sam's and his family's around you all the time."

"Don't worry, I'll bet anything my mom is gonna insist on taking my couch as soon as she finds out what's going on." Cas is done packing now, and Dean motions for him to come closer. Dean takes Cas's hands in his, hating how his body rebels at the contact that he should crave. His skin crawls, and he wants to shove his mate away, but he doesn't. He looks into eyes that will never be anything but strikingly blue and a face that even the alphasine can't tell him isn't gorgeous, and sees how much love is there. He pushes down the fighting instinct that's trying to surface.

"This is hard, and it feels awful, and I am so _pissed_ that I can't be with you right now. I love you, Cas. We'll manage."

Castiel nods, then pulls one hand out of Dean's to run his fingers through Dean's hair and down his cheek. He's smiling gently.

"I know. I know we will. It's just a few days. We've made it two months, we can do this." He kisses Dean's forehead, then Dean tips his head up to capture Cas's lips with his own. This kiss feels odd—a confusing mix of hormones telling him to bite and hurt, and the rest of his brain treasuring it and wishing it didn't have to end. But it's more for Cas's benefit than his.

Dr. Barnes comes back in with a nurse, who escorts Castiel out for the blood draw. Dean watches him go with a mix of relief and grief.

"We'll get some Phero-Kleer in here to take the edge off all that alpha goodness," Dr. Barnes tells him. Then she sits on the edge of his bed and regards him seriously. "Okay, don't be offended by this. It's just what I have to do as a doctor. Now that Castiel is not in the room, are you certain that you want to take the bonding hormones? If you don't, we will not tell him, and we won't let him back into your room."

"How am I not supposed to be offended by that?" he snaps. "I've told you ten times, he's my mate, I love him, I want him back. I fucking _hate_ how I feel right now. Do you have any idea how it feels to look at someone you love and have your gut tell you they're the fucking enemy? I'm having a worse reaction to him than I do most alphas, and I hate it."

"Okay, then," she says, holding up her hands in surrender. "I hear you loud and clear. And I am nothing but happy for you two. Aside from being about the prettiest couple I've seen come through here, you two clearly do love and support each other. I just have to ask it because some people are reluctant to admit that they want out of the bond with their mate in the room, whether just due to shame or guilt, or occasionally an abusive mate. And it's not surprising that you're having an extra-strong reaction to him right now. Your body's probably pretty confused. His pheromones are most likely triggering _some_ of the bonding hormones, but not the right combination. So then you release an extra dose of alphasine to cancel those out. And we really don't need such a high dose screwing with your system right now."

"Great," Dean mutters. Just what he needs, lots and lots of alpha hormones while he's trying to recover from surgery.

"Look, I'll get someone in here with the Phero-Kleer ASAP, and you'll feel a lot better. Then we'll take another blood draw in an hour or so to see how those hormone levels are doing, got it? I'll let you know how it goes with Castiel's hormones."

And soon Dean is alone in his room. An orderly comes in with the Phero-Kleer, and he can feel the alpha aggression draining almost immediately. Unfortunately, it's quickly replaced by an ache in his chest, and he reaches for his phone. He doesn't even feel needy or clingy; he's been through the fucking wringer and this is the closest he can get to his mate.

"The nice man taking my blood is glaring at me for answering my phone, Dean." There's only amusement and affection in Cas's voice, none of the bitterness or fear Dean was dreading. He can't even reply for a moment, because he's in love. He loves this alpha with everything he's got, and it's such a relief to feel it without his body interfering.

"Dean? Are you okay?"

"Yeah! No, Cas, I'm great. It's just—I know you just left a few minutes ago, but you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice. Without all that hormonal bullshit." He hears some activity on the other end of the line.

"Dean—can I call you back in a few minutes? I apparently need to fill out some paperwork for this. I'll call you once I'm back out in the waiting room."

"Yeah, no problem. You do what you have to, get our hormones back on the same page."

"I love you."

"Love you, too."

He wonders if saying it will ever get old. He's a little disappointed Cas can't talk, but he should've known that. Of course Cas is still dealing with the blood stuff, it's been like five minutes. Dean looks around the room for something to do. Now that he can see, he can actually watch TV or read or something. He needs to have someone bring him some books. And his iPad. He wonders if he gets wifi here.

He's just turned on the TV and is flipping through the channels when there's a knock at his door. A nurse sticks his head in.

"Mr. Winchester, you have four visitors. Your parents and another couple. Are you feeling well enough to see them? I can let them in two at a time, if you prefer."

"Nah, get 'em all in here, I'm fine." He's smiling as he turns off the TV, but damn, he wishes Cas were here. He realizes he won't get to be there when Cas meets his parents, and his smile slips.

But then his mom and dad and Bobby and Ellen all come in, and for the next ten minutes it's a party and he's the guest of honor. There are hugs and kisses all around; even Bobby gives him a brief hug. They've got more balloons and flowers than he knows what to do with, and he has to repeat every detail of what's happened.

He's only just gotten to the post-surgery bit when Cas calls back.

"Hey, man, you're missing the party! Jesus, I wish you could be here." He notices confused looks at that, and he holds up a finger.

"I take it your parents arrived? I wish I could be there, too."

"Hey, maybe you can come in just for a few minutes—"

"Dean, I'm sorry, I'm not willing to take risks with your health for a few minutes of fun. And it wouldn't be so fun for you, anyhow. I saw how the alphasine was affecting you, Dean, you don't need that right now. Enjoy your time with your family."

"You're my family, Cas," he says quietly, momentarily forgetting he's in a roomful of people.

"I know, Dean. I love you. I'm going to stay in the waiting room for now if any of them would like to speak to me. I still need to give all this information to your mother, at the very least."

Dean's smiling again as they say their goodbyes. It would be so easy for Cas to just go home and wait until the hormones kick in, but instead he's here, doing whatever he can for Dean.

"So it sounds like that was… Castiel?" His mom pronounces the name carefully, unsure if she's getting it right.

"Your mate?" Ellen adds, eyebrows raised.

"Uh, yeah," Dean says, unsure how to explain what's going on.

"So where the hell is he?" John asks, getting right to what Dean knows everyone is wondering. "What kind of an alpha isn't here in the hospital with his mate after major surgery?" Gotta love his father's lack of tact. No one's ever wondered where Dean learned it.

"He was here last night," Bobby says to John in a conciliatory tone. "I told you, he seems like a good kid, I'm sure he didn't abandon Dean. Probably stepped out to pick up some real food."

"He did that earlier, actually. Lifesaver, lemme tell you, they were gonna give me salisbury steak for lunch." His family laughs. "But, uh, Cas can't come in my room right now. The surgery screwed with my bonding hormones, and my body's reacting to him like a threatening alpha instead of like my mate."

Bobby, Ellen, and Mary look horrified. John just frowns.

"So he's not your mate anymore?"

"He's still my mate, dad." Dean wants to explain calmly, but he knows he sounds annoyed. Because he's pretty sure he knows where this is going. "My body just can't make the right hormones. In a few days I'll be able to take replacements and everything'll be back to normal, and Cas and I can be together again. It'll be fine."

" _Normal_?" Dean feels a slight growl rumble in his chest at his father's tone. "Son, _this_ is normal. You _should_ be reacting to him like he's an alpha, because he is."

" _John_ ," Mary warns, but her husband ignores her.

"You know it's true! Alphas aren't supposed to be able to scent bond with each other! Dean should take this as the blessing it is and rid himself of a bond he never asked for in the first place."

"John Winchester—" Ellen starts. Mary looks like she's about to smack her husband.

"Can't you at least meet the guy before you go telling your son to abandon his mate?" Bobby asks, incredulous.

"This _alpha_ is not Dean's mate. Not anymore! His body rejected the bond, he doesn't have to—"

" _Dad!_ " Dean yells. "Shut up for five seconds! Castiel _is_ my mate. Our scent bond was a surprise, yeah. A big fucking surprise since we're both alphas. That's why we've been taking this slow and getting to know each other for the past couple months. And that's why I didn't tell anyone, because come on, mom, you know you woulda been all excited and crying and planning our wedding and then if Cas and I decided not to go through with the bond you'd be more disappointed than we would. But I've spent the past two months getting to know him over the phone, never going near him, so all those crazy scent bond hormones have had a chance to calm down. And what I found out is that he's awesome. He's my best friend now. We had a spontaneous scent bond for a reason, and it's because we're fucking perfect for each other. We'd actually talked about it yesterday before all this shit went down and agreed that we wanted to meet and blood bond. I _want_ to spend my life with him, it's not something my hormones forced me into. And my hormones turning around and walking out on me isn't freeing me from some obligation, it's keeping me away from my mate and it's pissing me off."

"I don't care how _awesome_ he is. It's one thing to get together with another alpha because you had a spontaneous scent bond, I know you can't control that, but you have a choice now, Dean! You don't have to be in a relationship that everyone's gonna look down on like you're a couple of freaks—"

Then everyone starts yelling at once. Mary and Ellen are chastising John for calling his son a freak; Dean is telling him that yes, he has a choice, and he's choosing Cas; John is yelling back at Mary that she should want better for her son. Bobby is the only quiet one. He takes off his hat, scratches his head, and just glares at John.

Finally, the nurse comes in. He shuts the door behind him rather loudly to get their attention.

"I'm sorry, but if you can't settle down I'm going to have to ask you all to leave. It's dangerous for Mr. Winchester's blood pressure to get too high this soon after the surgery, and there are other patients trying to sleep."

They all mumble apologies, chastised, and he leaves again with one last glare.

"Dad, let me bottom line it for you," Dean says, as calmly as he can manage under the circumstances. "Cas is my mate. I am in love with him. Once they get the right hormones made, I will inject myself with them every week for as long as I have to so that I can be with him. We are going to form a blood bond, we are going to get married, and eventually we are probably going to adopt children. That is what is going to happen no matter how much you complain about it, so if you can't wrap your head around that just because your son-in-law is an alpha, you can get the fuck out."

John sighs. "I just don't understand why you would choose to make life hard for yourself."

"Because he's worth it. We know people will think we're freaks. We thought we were too, at first. But we've had a million people who know better than us tell us that there's absolutely nothing physically wrong with two alphas bonding, it just doesn't happen often because alphas don't hang out much. If I were marrying a beta man, you'd be okay with it, right? Even though it's a guy? You know I've dated beta guys."

"Damn straight he would," Mary says, glaring at her husband and daring him to contradict her.

"You all really think that's the same as two alphas?" he asks the others.

"Why the hell wouldn't it be?" Ellen asks.

"Because Dean doesn't have an instinct warning him away from betas! Look, I'm a modern guy, I don't care if two people get together just because they can't make a baby together. Even two omegas, whatever. But we're talking about going against your basic biology—"

"Oh, wait, you mean the biology that gave us a spontaneous scent bond? _That_ biology? Because I'm pretty sure it wanted us together before we did. And if I hadn't just had a doctor stick scissors up my nose and chop off part of my pituitary gland, it still would." Dean is nearly yelling again. Let the nurse come back; he can kick Dean's dad out, nobody'll miss him.

"John Winchester, so help me, if you can't at least be civil to your son-in-law and the future father of your grandchildren, you will be on the next plane right back to California and nobody will miss you." Dean smiles a little as his mom voices his exact thought.

There's a reason Mary has managed to put up with John all these years, and that's because as stubborn as he can be, she is even moreso, and he knows it. He learned long ago when to let something go before it got him sent to a motel for the night—which Dean remembers happening more than once when he was little.

"Okay, okay," he grumbles. "You're an adult, Dean, you can have whoever the hell you want for a mate. I dunno about civil, though, if he's an alpha—"

"An alpha who's got a bond with your son, you idiot," Bobby interrupts. "You'll get along with him as well as you get along with Dean or Sam, and we all know your problems there aren't because you're an alpha."

"Look, I know it's hard to believe that the chemicals work the same way," Dean says, making peace. "But they totally do. Trust me, until my brain went wacky a couple hours ago, I couldn't tell he was an alpha at all. You'll be fine, just like Sam'll be fine staying at his house."

"So when do we get to meet this young man?" Mary focuses on Dean, ignoring John, who is still licking his wounds. It's an old dance for them and they both know the steps. His dad will be fine in an hour.

Dean snorts. "Young man. He's two years older than me, mom, and I'm freaking 34. I haven't been called a young man in a few years now." His mother gives him a look, and he keeps going before she can tell him he'll always be her little boy. "But to answer your question, as soon as you leave the room, probably. He's out in the waiting room. He wants to talk to you, actually, mom. He's been takin' all these notes on everything the doctors have said about my recovery and medications and followups and shit, I've hardly been able to follow it but he's got it all and he's been cross-checking it every time someone tells us something new. But now he can't be here with me to keep track of it all, so he wants to hand it over to you to deal with."

Ellen and his mom exchange impressed looks.

"Well, I for one am not going to complain about having such a conscientious alpha around to take care of my boy," Mary says lightly. "Although I also won't complain about doing it myself."

"Mary, why don't you and I go out and talk to the boy," Ellen says. Dean rolls his eyes at her calling a thirty-six-year-old man a boy, but doesn't say anything. "Bobby's already grilled him, so I missed my chance to play bad cop." She puts a hand on John's chest when he starts to move. "I suggest you stay in here with your son and simmer down a little before you go making a scene in the hospital waiting room and get us all kicked out."


	13. Chapter 13

After his blood has been drawn, Castiel is filling out some paperwork in the waiting room when Dr. Barnes comes in and pulls him aside into a small exam room.

"Is everything okay?" he asks as she closes the door. "Is Dean all right?"

"Dean is grumpy, but fine. I'm just obligated to ask you, while you're alone and away from Dean, whether you really want us to use your blood to synthesize the bonding hormones. If you don't, we'll toss the blood that was just drawn, and we won't tell Dean anything until he's released from the hospital."

Castiel glowers at her, a surge of alpha protectiveness taking hold deep in his chest. "I understand why you have to ask me that, doctor, but yes, of course I do." He shuts his mouth before he says something far ruder.

Dr. Barnes just beams at him. "Well, you took that much better than Dean did! I made the mistake of sitting on the edge of his bed to ask him, and I thought he might literally kick me off."

Cas can't help a snort of laughter as he imagines Dean, already hopped up on alphasine, tearing the doctor a new one for daring to question their love. "Glad to hear he's defending my honor."

He doesn't tell her that it's an enormous relief. He trusts Dean, he knows rationally that Dean will take the hormone replacements and they'll be able to blood bond and it will all be _fine_. But he can't quite shake the knot in his stomach. The chill that swept over him when he looked into Dean's eyes and saw that primal aggression isn't something he can forget just yet. Dean was fighting against it, that was clear, but it was also clear that it was a fight he would lose if they stayed in the same room for too long.

"Aside from that, I just wanted to reiterate what's going to happen now," she continues with a reassuring smile. "You're not barred from his room, but I do recommend that you not go back in there, and that the two of you not be in the same room again until he's had the hormone replacement in his bloodstream for at least twelve hours. Being around you is making his alphasine levels spike even more than they would around other alphas, so if you can both resist the temptation it really would be best. However, as his mate you are welcome anywhere else in the hospital and are still fully entitled to all of his medical information, so feel free to ask me or any of the nurses whatever questions you have, any time. When the hormone replacements are ready we'll notify both you and Dean. He'll need to come back here to meet with me to pick them up this first time, but again, it would be best if you did not come with him. Got all that?"

"Yes. How long should the replacements take, again?"

"Hopefully just three or four days. No longer than a week, I promise." She gives him a pat on the arm and opens the door for them to exit.

Back out in the waiting room, Castiel talks to Dean on the phone briefly. It feels a little ridiculous to call someone who is maybe a hundred feet away, but he's been spending his entire evenings on Skype with someone only a few miles away so he doesn't think he really has any room to get embarrassed now. Dean's family apparently arrived while he was dealing with the blood and paperwork; he feels bad that he's not there with Dean to help explain the situation to them. He realizes that he'll be meeting all of them without Dean there, and he feels a pang of regret. He knows Dean will hate to miss that, and he certainly wouldn't mind the support. 

Bobby had been reasonably friendly once he got over the initial shock, but he's not sure how much of that was due to the precariousness of the situation at the time. Now that Dean is out of surgery and recovering, will his family feel the need to be harder on Castiel? All he can do is wait to find out.

He hears a commotion coming from the direction of Dean's room, and when a nurse opens the door he clearly hears Dean's voice among the shouts. His heart drops, even as the noise quiets down some. The only person in Dean's family that Dean thought might have trouble with the idea of his having an alpha mate was his father. Castiel has a feeling that John Winchester is being every bit the "bullheaded son of a bitch" Dean has described him as. He wants to call again and see if Dean needs anything, but he doesn't want to add fuel to any fires, and it's not like he could go in there for comfort or support anyhow. So he waits.

Just a few minutes later, a pair of women in their fifties come into the waiting room and straight toward Castiel. He recognizes Mary Winchester immediately from photos; he's never seen a picture of Ellen Singer, but she looks enough like Mary and Jo (other than the dark hair where the other two are blondes) that it's not much of a leap. Cas stands to greet them.

"You Castiel?" Ellen asks suspiciously as they approach. He can already see her married to Bobby.

"Yes," he says with a smile. He holds out a hand toward Mary. "You must be—"

He's cut off by being pulled in for a surprisingly strong hug by the small woman.

"I can't tell you how happy I am to meet you, Castiel," Mary says as she hugs him. She pulls back and holds him at arm's length, looking him over. "I have never seen Dean talk about anyone the way he was just talking about you. I can't wait to get to know the man who's made my baby fall so head over heels."

He feels his face warm, and he opens his mouth a couple of times before he manages to say anything. "I'm… I'm happy to meet you, too, Mrs. Winchester."

She rolls her eyes. "You're adorable. Mary, obviously. And this is Dean's Aunt Ellen."

Ellen gives him an amused smile as she shakes his hand. "I've already heard plenty about you from my daughter and my husband, but I thought I should come and form my own opinions."

"It's nice to meet you. I've taken the fact that I'm still alive as a sign that Jo doesn't entirely disapprove of me. Bobby, I realize, may simply be unwilling to bring a gun into the hospital." He feels a little nervous about even trying to joke, but if Ellen is anything like Jo or Dean he's reasonably sure that she'll appreciate it.

"Oh don't worry, Bobby's a sneaky bastard when he wants to be, he woulda found some way to lure you outside by now," she assures him with a wink.

They settle down into the uncomfortable chairs that Cas has become far too familiar with already.

"Dean says that you've been taking notes from the doctors?" Mary asks. "He said you'd be willing to pass them on to me."

"Yes," he says, pulling his phone out and looking for the right app. "I assume Dean explained our situation to you, why I can't go in his room?"

"Yes!" Mary exclaims, and puts a hand on his knee. "God, I am so sorry, Castiel. It would have destroyed me if our bonding hormones had gone haywire like that after John and I established our scent bond, and our wasn't even spontaneous. The things you _both_ must have gone through already, just biologically, and now this."

"If nothing else, it will make quite a story to tell when people ask how we met. I can only hope that in a few days a story is all it will be, so we can start a more normal life together. Oh, here are my notes. Can I email them to you?"

They take care of that, and Castiel goes through everything with Mary, making sure she understands all of his shorthand and how the information is organized. 

"You might want to go over it with Dr. Barnes when you get a chance," he tells her as they finish, "just to make sure I haven't made any mistakes that I'm passing on to you."

When he glances up at her as he puts his phone away, he's surprised to see her eyes threatening to spill over as she smiles at him. She startles him with another hug, this time a bit more awkward because they're sitting down with the arms of their chairs between them.

"I'm sorry," she says over his shoulder. "I just… you have no idea how much it means to me that Dean has someone to take care of him like this. And that he's actually letting you do it. Getting a call that your child is in the hospital is a mother's worst nightmare, but if anything ever happens again I will feel so much better knowing that you're there for him, Castiel."

"I can't imagine doing any less for him," he says softly as she pulls back.

"You know, I really believe that," she says as she wipes the tears from her face.

It's clear that now that the medical necessities are taken care of, Ellen is eager to start the interrogation portion of the festivities.

"So," she says as Mary gets herself back in order, "we've only heard Jo's version of how you two met and what you've been up to for the past two months, but she's kinda sketchy on most of the details. Why don't you tell us your side of the story?" Ellen's smile isn't unfriendly, but it reminds him sharply of the ones Jo would give him when she was still deciding whether to destroy him or not.

So he tells them an edited version of the story, trying to watch their reactions carefully. Mary seems enchanted, as though every detail is the most romantic thing she's ever heard. Ellen is clearly trying to listen neutrally, but occasionally quirks a small smile at something.

He's just finishing when Mary and Ellen both look up at someone entering the waiting room. Castiel looks over and sees John Winchester and Bobby, who keeps casting surly glances at John. Mary stands up, smiling, while Ellen stays seated, watching John suspiciously. Castiel does his best to ignore the obvious tension that has just ratcheted up in the room and pretend that he has no idea why John's appearance would cause such a reaction.

"Castiel, this is Dean's father, John," Mary introduces them as Castiel stands to shake John's hand. "John, this is Dean's mate, Castiel." Castiel doesn't miss the slight emphasis she puts on _mate_.

"It's good to meet you, sir," Castiel says as they shake hands, erring on the side of sucking up.

At first John just grunts and nods. But then he glances at his wife, and she must be glaring at him because he clears his throat and says, "Yeah. Likewise."

Castiel sits back down, but John doesn't sit. Bobby doesn't either, though it looks like he's just trying to keep an eye on John. Cas has to admit that he's relieved that, whether or not they actually like him, the rest of Dean's family at least doesn't think he should have to put up with anything from John.

In the face of John's grudgingly repressed hostility, even Ellen seems to have decided that she can drop the suspicious act and get fully on Castiel's side.

"Jo says your books are kind of a big deal," she says, and Cas is so thankful for the distraction that he doesn't even mind the unnecessary praise that makes him blush. "She said you've won some awards?"

"The third books in my series won a Nebula, which is an award for science fiction and fantasy," he tells her, "but it's—"

"You sure you're an alpha?" John cuts in. The timing was clearly an assertion of dominance, but he does look honestly confused.

"John!" Mary hisses, and Bobby hits him in the arm.

Castiel grits his teeth and decides that he's not willing to walk on eggshells for this man.

"I'm thirty-six years old," he says, firm but polite. "I think I would have noticed by now if I weren't."

"I am so sorry, Castiel, ignore my husband—"

"You just don't smell like one, is all. Mary, you can't tell me he smells like an alpha to you!"

"Yes! He does!" Mary shoots up out of her chair, obviously reaching the end of her patience. "Do you think maybe you can guess _why_ he would smell like an alpha to me, but not to you? Come on, we've only explained it to you five times. It's not our fault you refused to believe that his scent bond with Dean would affect you exactly like it would if Dean were an omega. If all you're gonna do is stand around and play stupid so you can try and insult your son-in-law, then you need to leave."

John looks away, his gaze saying he's been chastened even as the set of his jaw says he's still not happy with the situation.

"Sorry, Castiel," he mutters. "Now that I've smelled it with my own nose, I guess I've got no choice but to admit that this scent bond of yours actually works even though you're both alphas. Just tryin' to get my head around it."

"It was a shock to us, as well," Cas says, trying to make peace. "My brother is a doctor, he had to reassure us that biologically, this is no different from any other scent bond. And biology aside, I want you _both_ to know," he glances at Mary, including her in this, "that you have raised an extraordinary man, and I'm only surprised that everyone who meets him doesn't fall hopelessly in love with him. Grateful, perhaps, but surprised."

John doesn't say anything, but he does finally sit down. They only chat for a few more minutes before they realize that Sam's flight will be getting in soon. Sam and his family will be stopping by the hospital first, of course, but they won't stay long tonight because they want to get their daughters settled in at Castiel's house and into bed at a decent time. They'll spend the next day with Dean.

Castiel sighs. "I haven't been home since yesterday, I should go and get the spare rooms ready. I need to get something for the girls to sleep on, actually—I haven't had a chance to fully furnish my house yet, since moving."

"They're six and three," Ellen says with a smirk, "grab a cheap air mattress and they'll think it's the best adventure they've ever had."

—

Castiel does grab an air mattress from a Target on his way back to Lawrence, as well as pillows, a My Little Pony blanket, a night stand, and a lamp. At the last minute, he grabs a couple of stuffed animals from the toy department. He was planning on turning the second spare bedroom into an office, but hadn't gotten around to it yet and is glad now that he hasn't.

He's just gotten the rooms looking presentable and taken a quick shower when Sam calls to let him know they're in Lawrence and will be there soon. He asks if Chinese takeout is okay for dinner, then places an order once they've hung up.

He's not sure what he was expecting when Sam and Jess arrived. He assumed he would get along with them, as he seems to have gotten along with all of Dean's friends that he's met so far. He knew that two small children who have been on a plane all day would be have a lot of energy.

What he wasn't prepared for was the absolute explosion of life that fills his house.

Sam and Jess are both bubbling over with eagerness to meet him, to hug him, to hear all about him. But at the same time, their daughters, Millie and Olivia, have absolutely no interest in allowing their parents to finish a single sentence or in slowing down for five seconds. They tear through the house, screeching in delight when they see the My Little Pony blanket and the brightly-colored teddy bears in their room and pausing only as briefly as their mother makes them to meet their Uncle Cas and thank him for "decorating" (Jess's word, probably much too strong) the room for them.

Somehow, in the midst of all this, he manages to show Sam and Jess around the house as well as get some basic introductory conversation out of the way. His back yard is fenced, so they finally open the back door and let the children loose upon the world until dinner arrives. There's not exactly much for them to play with back there, but Millie immediately scrambles up a small tree and Jess runs out to help Olivia get up next to her big sister.

Castiel is left blinking after them in the kitchen.

"Sorry, they're a little wound up," Sam says, "Jess included. I don't think she likes sitting still for three hours any more than they do. Once they get dinner in their stomachs they'll probably all three crash."

Castiel shakes his head. "It's fine, I just—it's been an exhausting couple of days, I think I've forgotten what it's like to have half that much energy."

Sam watches Cas watching the girls for a minute, and he must see something in Cas's face.

"Not to be _that_ family member before you're even blood bonded," he says casually, "but just out of curiosity, you think you and Dean might have kids eventually?"

One corner of Castiel's mouth lifts as he glances over at Sam. He knows a test when he hears it. "Yes. We've discussed it and we definitely do plan to have children. We haven't gotten into the details of adoption, surrogacy, et cetera, but it is something that is important to both of us."

Sam nods, giving him a small approving smile. Sam must know how important having kids is to his brother.

"How was Dean when you saw him?" Cas asks. They've been texting back and forth since he left the hospital, but the fact that he can't see and smell him and know that he's all right is driving him crazy.

"Seemed to be doing pretty good for a guy who was blind last night and had surgery this morning. I think seeing the girls cheered him up. He's obviously pretty upset that you had to leave. Pissed off at his own body for screwing with him, distressed that his mate isn't there even though you _being_ there just makes things worse right now. Kind of a mess." The instinctual guilt that floods Castiel at the reminder that he isn't there for his mate must be clear in his scent, because Sam puts a hand on his shoulder. "You know this isn't your fault, man. Like, there's no possible way any part of it could be your fault. I know it doesn't help to say that staying away is the best thing you can do to help Dean recover, because I know how I'd feel if that were the case with Jess. But you _are_ being a good mate."

Luckily, the doorbell rings right then, their dinner having arrived. After some negotiation, Millie winds up agreeing to have beef and broccoli and even claims she will eat the broccoli, while Olivia will only eat the "funny chicken nuggets" (sweet and sour chicken without the sauce) and white rice, but not if they are touching. After further negotiations, they wind up letting the girls eat in front of the television watching _Octonauts_ on Netflix so the adults can actually talk while they eat at the kitchen table. 

While Sam and Jess get the girls to bed, he talks to Dean on the phone. It sounds like he's recovering well other than the bonding hormones, and if all his other hormones stay stable the next day he'll be discharged Saturday morning. After the girls are in bed, he stays up for a bit with Sam and Jess, sharing a bottle of wine and talking. They've both read his books and have questions about those and want to hear funny stories of his other author friends whose work they've read. He grills Sam for embarrassing stories from Dean's childhood.

By the time the adults are heading for bed, Castiel is feeling better. He's still upset about the whole situation, but the recurring fear that Dean won't want him back is gone. Talking to Sam and Jess, he already feels like he's been welcomed into the family. And now, as he gets into his own bed in this new house that's normally too big and empty for him, he realizes that it smells different. Obviously, the other Winchesters don't smell like Dean. But there's something in their scents, particularly Sam's, that carries a familiar note, one that Cas's body is attuned to. His house is full of life now, but more importantly it's full of family—Dean's family and therefore now _his_ family—and he sleeps better than he has in a while.


	14. Chapter 14

Once Cas leaves to prepare for Sam's arrival, the Singers and the Winchesters come back into Dean's room briefly. But only for a few minutes before Bobby, Ellen, and John head back to Lawrence; they want to get out before Sam's family arrives, so that the room isn't completely overrun with visitors. Things will be crazy enough on Friday with everyone here.

Once it's just Mary, she takes Dean's hand and turns to him with a sappy look in her eye. He braces for the coming onslaught of maternal love.

"Castiel is wonderful, Dean," she says, eyes misty. "He obviously loves you deeply. If that weren't obvious from the way he talks about you and how the two of you have gotten to know each other, the care he's taken in making sure you get the best treatment possible clinches it."

Dean shrugs, grinning. "Of course he is, mom, what do you think this is? You think I'd just take any random joe schmo for my mate? No way, only the best here."

"And I can absolutely see how the two of you must fit together," she continues, giving him a knowing look. "He seems very composed and level-headed, but there's this intensity burning just under the surface. It gives him this… presence. And it reminds me of you, sweetie. You're so laid-back, but underneath it you're passionate, you care _so_ deeply. But where your passion and love are this expansive thing that just bubbles over sometimes, his seems laser-focused. Being the center of that kind of focus must be electrifying." Dean is a little too stunned at how well she's managed to read Cas in fifteen or twenty minutes of knowing him to say anything before she smirks at him, patting his hand. "When you two have your first fight, it is going to be _explosive_ , you know that?"

That startles a laugh out of him. "Thanks, mom, already planning for our first fight, that's awesome."

"Hey, it's gonna happen eventually." She shrugs, smiling, and brushes his hair back from his forehead. "You might as well be prepared. Just remember that when you do finally have that knock-down, drag-out fight, it's not because you don't love each other. It's just because you're two people who have way too much heart, and that kind of heart feels things deeply. So when the thing you're _both_ feeling is anger, everyone better watch out. 

" _However_." She pauses, giving him a pointed look, "You'd better get a couple of those fights out of your system _before_ I get any grandbabies, so you know how to handle yourselves. Kids don't need to see that kind of shit. I know you got to see your father and I hash out our problems a few too many times when you were little, and I wish we'd figured out how to handle things sooner."

"I think you mean, you wish dad had figured out sooner that he'd better do what you tell him, because you're gonna win no matter what and you're usually right anyhow."

"I didn't say that," Mary replies mildly, smiling as if to say she _totally_ did.

—

The next morning, Dr. Barnes reports that his hormone levels have plateaued, so assuming nothing else goes wrong he'll be discharged Saturday morning.

The day passes in a blur of visitors and nurses. Every member of his family is in and out—except the one he wants to see the most. He has to admit, though, that the rest of them are doing a pretty good job of making up for quality with quantity.

Sam and Jess are flying back Sunday afternoon, but Mary and John came on one-way tickets. Now that they know he's going to be discharged on Saturday, John makes plans to fly back with Sam and the rest. Mary has no intention of leaving until Dean is safely back in Castiel's care.

Before he knows it, Dean is headed back to his apartment with several prescriptions and a list of discharge instructions a mile long. His entire family agrees that no, he is _not_ allowed to stop by the store "just to see how things are going," pointing out that it would be his day off even if he hadn't had a brain tumor removed barely two days ago. But there's plenty to do anyhow—his groceries have been mysteriously restocked while he was gone, and his mom sets about making some kind of casserole for lunch while he goes with Sam and Jess to take the girls to a park.

When they get back, the casserole is out of the oven and an apple pie has gone in in its place. Mary has already started on a chocolate cream pie to go in next. They eat the casserole and the pies, and then Sam and Jess mysteriously commandeer Dean's laptop while he's helping his mom clean up.

When he goes to see what they're up to, he discovers that they've downloaded a bunch of photos they've taken over the past couple of days—photos of Cas. By himself, with them, with their parents, with the girls. Apparently Ellen took some of them and copied them onto Sam's SD card to go with the rest. There are even a couple of videos of Cas playing with Millie and Olivia.

When he plays one of these, the girls hear it from the next room and run in excitedly to watch. They tell Dean all about Uncle Cas—Millie seems to understand at least a little that Dean and Cas are mates, but Olivia doesn't even seem to realize that Dean is the entire reason this new person is now their uncle. She's surprised when Dean says that yes, he does know Uncle Cas, and in fact Uncle Cas is his best friend in the whole world.

"Can you come to Unca Cas's house wif us?" She asks innocently.

"Yeah!" Millie cries. "Pleeeease?"

"Aw, I wish I could," Dean tells them. "You know how I was in the hospital?" They nod. "Well, the surgery I had fixed a lot of stuff, really important stuff. But it also broke a little tiny bit of stuff. And that part that's broken means that I'll get sick if I hang out with Uncle Cas right now. But in a few days, I'll get some medicine to take to fix that, and then I'll be with Uncle Cas all the time! Next time you come to Lawrence, Uncle Cas and I will be living together, what do you think of that?"

"That's _perfect!_ " Millie exclaims, eyes wide. "Because do you know why, Uncle Dean?"

"I can think of a lotta reasons it's perfect, Mills. What were you thinkin'?"

"Because daddy said next time we come to Lawrence will be for Christmas, and there's a tree in Uncle Cas's front yard that looks just like a Christmas tree!"

Dean doesn't really get the logical leap that goes from a pine tree in Cas's yard to him and Cas living together, but that's six-year-olds for you. At least he's pretty sure they'll still be living at Cas's house then; he doubts they'll find a new place and move in the next three months.

"Awesome, maybe Uncle Cas and I will decorate it like one!"

They hang out for another hour, until Jess heads back to Cas's with the girls to put Olivia down for her nap. While Sam is helping Jess get the girls in the car and his mom is taking out the trash, Dean finds himself with a moment to himself. He opens up the videos of Cas playing with Millie and Olivia again.

He feels like he's looking right into their future. He'd kept it together while everyone else was in the room, but now he lets a couple of tears fall, overwhelmed by how badly he wants this. A life together, with kids playing in the yard. He can't admit it to anyone out loud, but he's terrified. If something goes wrong, if the hormone replacement doesn't work for some reason… He can't even let himself think about it for too long. They'll get there. The hormones will work and they'll be together, and after all this shit there'll be no force of nature that will be able to keep him away from his mate.

He pulls himself together before his mom and Sam get back upstairs. They play Scrabble, which Sam, of course, wins with his fancy lawyer vocabulary. Cas calls during the game and reminds Dean that they can Skype again now that he's out of the hospital. So as soon as the game is over, Dean rushes to get his laptop set up.

It's the best idea ever, because Dean finally gets to watch his mom and Sam interact with Cas. Eventually Jess and Millie get in on the action from the other end, the end result of which is a bit of a chaotic free-for-all of a Skype session, but Dean wouldn't have it any other way. Millie sits on Cas's lap, making Dean's heart melt. He had no idea his mate was such a god damned _natural_ with kids. He has a feeling he might be rewatching those videos every chance he gets over the next couple of days.

—

Sam and his family head back out Sunday night. Cas says his house feels even emptier now that it's been full, and neither of them can wait for Dean to take his place there.

Finally, late Monday afternoon Dean gets the call from Dr. Barnes's office that his hormones are ready to be picked up. He texts Cas, who's in class at the time, excitedly, and he and his mom head back to Kansas City.

Dr. Barnes shows him how to give himself the shot, and has him do the first one in front of her so she can see that he's got it. It's not particularly difficult, and the sting of the needle is short-lived. She recommends not even trying to see Cas until the next morning, and not to get disappointed if it doesn't go well then because it can take up to a day for the hormones to get up to the right levels in his blood. She gives him a month's worth of shots and a followup appointment in two weeks to check, among other things, how the blood bond has affected his hormones.

—

Finally, _finally_ Tuesday morning he and his mom drive over to Cas's house. He's nervous as hell, because he knows he's gonna be pissed if the hormones haven't kicked in yet. And more than a little scared that they somehow got the hormones wrong, or that the bond has already faded, or something, any of a hundred increasingly-improbable ways he can think of that would mean the end of all of this.

As he steps onto the porch and rings the doorbell, which feels awkward since he's about to start _living_ here, he realizes that he's the only member of his family who hasn't seen this house yet. This whole thing has just been completely ass-backwards.

But he knows as soon as Castiel steps up to the door, because he can smell him. He can smell his mate who smells like _his mate,_ that beautiful citrusy scent that tells Dean that he's home and the entire world is all right again.


	15. Chapter 15

Castiel is so nervous his hand is actually shaking as he reaches for the doorknob. He hopes to god this works, because if they so much as have to try again this afternoon he'll be a nervous wreck all day. But before he even touches it, Dean's scent hits him through the door—hickory and cardamom, they shouldn't even smell good together. Before he's even finished inhaling, all his nerves have melted away, because there's nothing to be nervous about. The distress, the illness and fear and anger and aggression Dean's scent was suffused with in the hospital, are all gone. All that's left is _mate_. _Home_.

And then he's opening the door, and he just stops. Because nothing on earth is so beautiful as Dean is in person, and combined with his smell it's the best kind of sensory overload. Dean looks like he may be thinking the same things about Castiel, and neither of them move for a moment, just absorbing each other's presence. Dean isn't wrinkling his nose or backing away or getting angry. It's perfect.

"You smell amazing, Cas," Dean finally says, and Castiel laughs and steps back to let them in. As soon as Dean is over the threshold, their hands are sliding around waists and behind necks, pulling each other close and clinging. Neither of them seems capable of doing anything but breathing in the scent of his mate, the only thing that matters in the world.

Mary is the one to finally break the spell. "Well, looks like you two are gonna be just fine. I'm gonna head over to Bobby's and tell everyone the good news. I'll check in tomorrow." She closes the door for them as she makes her exit.

The pheromones are definitely having their intended effect, but it feels entirely different this time. The first time they'd met, it felt good physically, but the loss of control was alarming, and the emotions Cas had started to feel toward a total stranger felt like foreign invaders to his mind. The overall effect was more unsettling than enjoyable. This time, though, everything is different. He'd expected it, of course, for one thing. He wasn't blindsided by the hormonal rush. But more importantly, Dean isn't a stranger. This is the man Castiel loves, the man he's _chosen_ to spend his life with, and everything else, everything his body is doing is being built on top of that solid emotional foundation. He _wants_ to feel all of this, to feel it for Dean and know that Dean is feeling it, too. It's delicious, something to revel in.

Their foreheads touch, and then their noses, before their mouths drift toward each other. Dean's lips are soft and full, and as their tongues slide past each other his mouth is still the most delicious thing Castiel has ever tasted. The kiss is hungry but not frenzied; they have all day. They have the rest of their lives.

Eventually they have to pull back just a little for air.

"I love you. God, I love you, Cas." Dean's voice is shaky and thick. It's near impossible for them to hold each other any closer, but he tries as they kiss again and Castiel can barely breathe for several reasons.

He finally pulls back again with a gasp. "I love you, too. I can't believe you're really here."

Dean laughs as he nuzzles into the side of Castiel's neck. "Wild horses couldn't have kept me away. A brain tumor, yes; wild horses, no."

Cas mirrors Dean's movements, letting himself be completely absorbed by his mate's scent. He runs his tongue down Dean's throat, pleased to find that while the pheromones are clearly less plentiful in the sweat, it still tastes like heaven.

"God, you're delicious," he growls. He opens his mouth against Dean's skin, letting his teeth scrape lightly. _Fuck_ , he can't wait to bite. When he tells Dean as much, Dean grunts and digs his fingernails into Cas's back, tilting his head so Cas has better access.

"Fuck yes," Dean moans, "You gonna fuckin' mate me, alpha? Make me yours for good? God, I bet you wanna knot me later, don't you?"

Somehow in all this, Castiel has managed to get Dean pressed up against the wall by the stairs, and the way Dean is writhing against him now is absolutely sinful. Castiel wishes he could get his knot into Dean immediately, but he knows that has to wait until after they've dealt with the blood bond.

"Mine," he breathes, grinding his hips against Dean. "Let's get upstairs, I need you naked on my bed _now_."

Before Dean can reply, Castiel is pushing him toward the stairs. They get up about three steps before Dean stumbles, his arms shooting out to catch himself on a higher stair. Cas's crotch winds up basically running right into Dean's ass, and something primal takes over at the contact. 

He wraps one arm around Dean's waist, grabbing a baluster with his other hand for balance. Then he's mouthing at the back of Dean's neck while rutting wildly against him. Dean lets out a loud moan and cants his hips to press his ass against Cas more firmly. The action lights up Cas's alpha brain and he's lost in a fog of instinct, growling as he nips at Dean's neck, sliding his hand down to rub at Dean's crotch, vaguely wondering why there is still clothing in his way so he can't knot his mate _right now_.

Dean practically humps his hand, making his ass move in harmony with Castiel's thrusts, the sounds coming out of him drowning out the rest of the world. It's not until Cas starts to tear at Dean's clothing, hands scratching down his chest and scrabbling ineffectually at his fly, that Dean finally comes out the haze just enough to put a stop to it.

" _Bed_ , Cas," he pants, grabbing the hand at his crotch. He doesn't move the hand, just presses it against him, but it keeps Cas from continuing his quest to get his mate naked. "We can't fuck on the stairs."

"Is that a challenge?" Castiel growls, but he's alert enough now to pull back and let Dean continue up the steps.

He's _not_ quite alert enough to remember that Dean doesn't know where his bedroom is, so he doesn't stop Dean from going in the first door he comes to. It doesn't register until Dean bursts into laughter.

"Please tell me I've got the wrong room," Dean says as Cas comes up behind him.

Cas pulls him roughly back into the hallway and starts shoving him toward the correct doorway.

"I needed something appropriate for your nieces," he mutters as they go.

As they reach his bedroom, Dean turns in his arms, nuzzling against his face in a tender rather than sexy way.

" _Your_ nieces," Dean murmurs, and the last of the alpha haze clears out of Castiel's head. He slides his hands up into Dean's hair and pulls him in for a deep, slow kiss. Dean's mouth is intoxicating.

Cas tips his head back, baring the long column of his neck. He closes his eyes and savors the pressure of Dean's teeth on his skin. Not breaking it, not yet. Soon. He's an alpha, he shouldn't crave this like he does, but nothing matters except the fact that _his mate_ will claim him and seal their bond. Which isn't to say that that's all he needs. His teeth itch to return the bite. He _needs_ to taste blood, and he _needs_ to feel Dean licking his own up.

Cas realizes that while Dean's mouth is busy on his neck, his hands are busy as well, working quickly through the buttons on Cas's shirt. Castiel would return the favor, but he feels sort of incapable of much of anything as long as Dean's jaws are latched onto him.

Finally Dean pulls back to push Cas's shirt off of him, and Cas shoves at the hem of Dean's t-shirt until they're both standing there, naked to the waist, hands and eyes wandering over each other's skin.

Dean crowds him up against the wall, his hands pinned above his head, Dean's chest pressed warm against him. 

"So fucking hot," Dean breathes into his ear. Cas's eyes fall closed as he feels Dean's body sliding along his in waves. "Fuckin' gorgeous. Everyone we meet is gonna be jealous of me, Cas. Gonna be so jealous that I'm the only one who can take this home, I'm the only one who gets to make you come."

A broken moan falls from Cas's mouth as his body seeks out more contact, more friction. Every point where skin touches skin sparks with electricity, but it's not enough.

He finally tears his wrists out of Dean's hands to wrap his arms around Dean's waist, hands sliding all over. He feels Dean's arms wraps around him in response. Even as his body celebrates the feeling of more bare skin against his, it _still_ insists that this isn't enough.

Something in the back of Cas's mind is just aware enough to realize that they are still in the hallway, having never actually made it through the door of his bedroom.

"Bed," he pants, trying to maneuver Dean to the doorway without breaking any point of contact, " _bed_."

They make it into the bedroom before their hands start grabbing at each other's pants, fumbling with buttons and zippers and sliding under fabric. Their mouths have found each other again, their kisses getting more desperate and needy as they go.

Dean has pause to toe off his shoes, and Castiel leaves him there, climbing on to the bed even as he's stripping his pants and boxers off. He's crawling up toward the pillows when he feels the bed dip behind him, and suddenly Dean is on top of him, grabbing him by the waist.

He feels a thick alpha dick sliding along the cleft of his ass, Dean's chest to his back and Dean's mouth on his neck again. It's a reversal of their position on the stairs, and being in the other position does nothing to keep his brain being fogged over with instinctual arousal.

He grinds back against Dean's dick, crying out when he feels the bump of a growing knot rub against him. Dean's hand finds Cas's own knot, and then they've both lost control, thrusting and snarling, fingernails digging in wherever they can get purchase.

The air is thick with their pheromones, with the smell of _Dean_ and _mate_ and _mine_ and _claim_. Castiel is muttering a string of near-nonsense mostly composed of those words. Any part of his brain not completely focused on mating is sluggish, so it isn't until he feels Dean's dick slip and the head actually press against his hole that some bit of his consciousness recognizes the fact that this isn't how they need to do this.

Apparently the completely dry state of Castiel's asshole gets Dean's attention, too, because he grunts out a " _Shit_ " and pulls back.

Cas collapses forward onto the bed, but immediately rolls over and pulls Dean down on top of him. They writhe together for several more minutes, dicks sliding against each other in a way that drives the coherency back out of Cas's mind.

Then Dean reaches down and adjusts them and presses his hips in _just so_ and suddenly their knots are grinding against each other. Castiel lets out a cry at the pressure against the sensitive bulge. The sensation of it catching against Dean's knot is reminiscent enough of an omega's rim that he feels himself hurtling close to the edge.

"I'm so close, Dean," he moans, and reaches down to stroke his mate's cock.

"Cas, _Cas_ , yeah, I'm—you're gonna—oh _god,"_ Dean pants against Castiel's mouth.

Cas wraps his hand around Dean's knot, squeezing lightly, and twists a little as he continues to slide it up and down. It's a movement he's seen Dean use on Skype to send himself over the edge, and it works just as well here.

Suddenly Dean's teeth are at his neck again, clamping down and pulling a strangled yelp from him. He feels Dean's knot pulse as Dean turns his head just so, using the sharp edges of his incisors to draw blood. Dean groans at the taste, his come shooting all over Castiel's stomach and chest. 

The bite only hurts for an instant, replaced with a tingling sensation as Dean licks over it. Cas keeps massaging Dean's knot through a second wave. He's completely covered, sticky with Dean's come, and he wants to rub it into his skin, smear it all over himself, see it mix with his own.

Then Dean runs his own hand through the mess, reaches down, and takes hold of Cas's knot. The effect is immediate, and unlike anything Castiel has ever experienced. His knot spasms, a jolt of ecstasy starting there and shooting across his entire body. Instinct takes over as he bites down, his body moving without his guidance exactly how it needs to to draw blood quickly. His orgasm is still pulsing through him, shaking him over and over again, and at the taste of Dean's blood an even stronger wave crashes down. He's not even sure what noises he's making against Dean's skin, but they're not quiet.

He releases his mouth and starts to lap at the wound, drinking in his mate's flavor. As his orgasm finally starts to recede, he finally lets go of Dean's knot and manages to catch one of the last bursts of fluid, coating his palm. When he replaces his hand, Dean shouts, hips jerking as yet another orgasm is ripped out of him. Dean's mouth latches back onto the bite, sucking and licking desperately.

Dean finally collapses onto his side next to Castiel, both of them panting. They move toward each other, wrapping themselves in a tangle of limbs, trying to keep as much contact as possible. Even though he's no longer in the throes of an orgasm, every inch of Cas's body is still throbbing with pleasure. It flows through his veins, lighting him up from the inside. They're filthy, but all he wants to do is squirm against Dean and spread the mess around, feel it all over both of them. Their hands slide over every inch of skin, their mouths never straying far from the bites that they continue to lick and kiss.

Little by little, their movements slow. The throbbing fades, but doesn't go away entirely. They finally start to come back to themselves, to conscious thought.

Castiel opens his eyes to find Dean already gazing at him from inches away. He can't imagine feeling more in love with a person than he does in that moment.

Dean leans forward to kiss him gently, then nuzzles down below his jaw and against his throat.

" _Cas_ ," he breathes, then a little more insistent, " _Cas!_ "

"Mmmm?" Castiel isn't quite up to words yet.

Dean lifts his head back up. "Scent me."

Castiel ducks down and breathes in his mate's scent. A smile spreads across his face as he realizes that Dean's scent has changed.

"It worked," he murmurs happily, kissing Dean's throat. "The blood bond took."

"We're mated, Cas," Dean whispers as though he can't quite believe it. Cas raises his head and they grin goofily at each other. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," Cas replies, tightening his arms around Dean as if it were possible to pull him any closer. "I'm so incredibly glad I found you. But I'm also glad we did it this way."

"You mean, getting to know each other first?"

"Yes. I think if one of us were an omega and we'd mated immediately, a part of me would have been fighting against it the entire time. When I met you, it was like there were two people in my body—one that didn't care about anything but mating with you, and one that was confused and horrified because the other person was the one in charge. This was incredible experience, and I'm grateful that I could give myself over to it completely, feel every moment deeply." He presses a kiss to Dean's lips. "I'm also grateful that I had the chance to experience it with someone I love instead of a random stranger I might someday grow to love."

"Yeah, me too," Dean says softly. "I kinda can't believe people do that with people they hardly know. That wasn't just sex. I mean, what do you even say to someone you just met after _that?_ "

Castiel laughs. "On the other hand, I suppose giving someone the longest, most intense orgasm of their life isn't the worst way to introduce yourself."

"Very true." Dean's eyes drift to the bite on Castiel's neck. He runs his thumb over it, sending a shiver down Cas's spine. "Kinda cool that we both get one of those. Can't wait to show mine off."

"You mentioned rings the other day," Cas says. "Do you want rings, too? Do you want a wedding?"

"Hell yeah." Dean's smile is starting to look a little sleepy, and Castiel realizes he feels the same. "Whole nine yards."

Cas nods. "We can do that. We should probably shower right now, though, or we're going to fall asleep and wake up unable to move, with this much come dried on our skin."

Dean gives a little whine and buries his face in Cas's neck. "Aw man, I don't wanna rinse your scent off me. Even if it is in the form of crusty jizz."

"Ew. You just made it worse," Cas says, making a face. "Besides, we have new scents now, Dean. You need to get this off of you so I can cover you in my new scent. The one that tells everyone I meet that I'm yours."

"Yeah, that's a good scent," Dean concedes, sniffing Cas's neck hard. "Okay, quick shower."

They wind up making out in the shower, but they're both too tired to take it any farther. They slide under the covers of Castiel's bed wrapped around each other.

"Can't wait to start the rest of my life with you, alpha," Dean murmurs, head on Cas's chest.

"My beautiful alpha," Castiel replies, running his fingers through Dean's hair. He can think of a dozen cheesy things to say, every one of which he would mean sincerely. "I will never forget how lucky I am that you chose me."

Dean hums, squeezing Cas's waist tight. They're silent after that, and Castiel is just starting to drift off when he hears Dean's quiet voice.

"By the way, next time? I am so getting your knot in my ass."

 


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Brief mention of rape (not involving Dean or Cas).

**Two years later.**

Some bookstores have a resident cat. Winchester Used Books has a resident novelist.

When he's not in class, Castiel Winchester (who still writes under Castiel Novak as a pen name, despite legally changing his last name) can usually be found in one of the squishy armchairs scattered around his husband's store, typing away on his laptop. Sometimes he's writing for a class, sometimes he's editing the last novel in his series. Sometimes he's trying out new ideas, trying to figure out where he wants to go once _Alien Angels_ is finished.

Today is like any other day: Castiel is folded into a chair in a corner, laptop balanced precariously in a way that Dean swears defies physics. Dean is unpacking boxes of books in the stock room when Cas's phone buzzes in his pocket.

Barely a minute later, Castiel is in the stock room, laptop folded under his arm.

"Dean! He's in labor. His water broke."

Dean's eyes go wide and he drops the book he was holding back in the box.

Castiel watches his husband rush around the store, telling all of his employees that his paternity leave is starting and getting hugs and well wishes in return. Charlie runs up to Castiel and squeezes him tight.

"I better be the first person to hear when that kid is out and allowed visitors, you got it? If you guys' brothers and parents really wanted to be the first people you call, they shoulda moved to Lawrence. Unlike any of them, _I_ can actually get to the hospital!"

They rush home, to the house they bought last year a few blocks from Dean's store. They have to prepare for the arrival of their daughter, Claire Rebecca (her middle name is for Castiel's mother, since Sam already took Mary for Olivia's middle name).

They'd signed up with an adoption agency soon after they blood bonded, knowing it might take a while for anyone to select an alpha/alpha couple to adopt their child. The male omega who finally met with them and eventually chose them is named Jimmy, and he has the same blue eyes and dark hair as Castiel so it's possible Claire might even look a bit like him. Jimmy was raped by a group of alphas while he was in heat. It's appalling that as recently as the 1980s in some states, sex with any omega during their heat could not legally be considered rape, but luckily those days are gone. It's still a tough crime to prosecute, but in this case there were witnesses. So Jimmy's assailants had been put away, but one of them had left him with a permanent reminder of the assault. He'd seriously considered an abortion, most people had expected it of him, but ultimately decided that he wanted to have the child and put it up for adoption.

He told them he was wary of placing her with any alphas at all at first, thinking he wanted a beta couple. They can't blame him for being wary of alphas after his ordeal. But he was intrigued by the idea of an alpha/alpha couple, realizing that at the very least they must know what it's like to be an outsider. When they met, he decided that Dean and Castiel are not the kind of alphas who would ever think less of a child who presented as an omega, male or female, as Jimmy's father had. Dean got outright pissed off when Jimmy described how derogatory his father had been, and was pleased to find out that his mother had taken him and left because of it.

And now Jimmy is in labor, and Claire will be here, probably within the next twelve hours. But probably not within the next two hours. So Dean and Cas have time to execute their Baby Readiness Plan.

Said plan involves having one last round of really great sex before they're too worn out to think about sex for the next several months.

The adrenaline from the excitement of the baby being on her way is coursing through Castiel's veins, and he channels it all toward his mate. As soon as they're in the door, he throws Dean against it, burying his face in Dean's neck to breathe in his scent and run his tongue possessively over the bite mark that shows the world that he belongs to Cas.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean breathes, head back against the door. "I been thinkin' about you all morning, baby. Want you inside me, Cas. I want you to knot me."

Castiel growls and bites at Dean's neck, feeling his mate go limp at the pressure. Cas lets Dean knot him occasionally, but he doesn't love it the way Dean does. Turns out Dean is a bit of a knot slut—or at least for Castiel he is. Cas knows that even though Dean has been with other alphas, Cas's knot is the only one he's had inside him. And once they'd tried it, Dean couldn't get enough of it. Cas likes to bottom, but he can only take Dean's knot if he's in the right mood. Dean wants it almost every time.

The mere thought of it has Cas almost completely hard.

He shoves Dean toward the stairs, but as soon as he starts to follow Dean stops, making Castiel collide into his back. Then Dean leans back, rubbing his ass against Cas's front in a way that he _knows_ will drive his mate crazy, forcibly reminding Cas of their first time together. Cas grabs Dean's hips and thrusts against him.

"I've taken you on these stairs, and I will do so again, but the lubricant is in our bedroom so I'm not sure you actually want that right now."

"Right, lube, right," Dean is already barely coherent. Castiel's not sure he's even been with an omega who got as lost in sex during their heat as Dean does on a regular basis. Once he's turned on, Castiel can do almost anything he wants with him, and it's really brought out Cas's dominant side.

As they stumble into the bedroom, their shirts are already off. Dean reaches down to unzip his jeans when Cas grabs him and spins him around so they're facing each other.

"No. You undress me, first."

Dean nods, eyes not quite focused, and drops to his knees. As he pulls Cas's pants and underwear down, he takes a moment to lick and mouth at Cas's knot, already swelling, then runs his tongue over the head as he stands back up.

"That was so good, Dean," Cas says as he starts to undo his mate's pants, then continues to murmur praise as he undresses Dean.

He stays on his knees and takes Dean deep in his mouth, working him hard and fast until he can tell Dean is getting close.

"Cas, Cas you gotta—"

"I know. I know. You want to come with my knot in you, I know. I wouldn't deny you that." He shoves Dean toward the bed, and Dean automatically gets on all fours, his ass up in the air.

Castiel digs into the nightstand drawer and pulls out a jar of synthetic slick. They buy it unscented, and originally they kept two jars—one mixed with Cas's semen and one mixed with Dean's. They found that while using the one with the bottom's pheromones heightens the experience for the top, it's much easier for Dean to get loose enough to take Cas's knot if he has Cas's pheromones in him. So they finally mixed the two together, so they both get a dose every time, and it's a jar of this that Castiel opens to prepare Dean.

He works his fingers in, slick running down to Dean's balls. Dean moans and rocks back onto Cas's fingers rhythmically, never shy about what he likes. Once Cas is working Dean with three fingers, he pours more slick right into Dean's open hole, rubbing it around and into Dean's prostate to get him to loosen up even more. By this point, Dean is begging Cas to let him touch himself, especially when Cas hits his prostate, but he knows he won't be allowed. He knows Castiel likes to do that himself, and not until he's inside.

Cas finally slides in, only up to the start of the knot, and starts fucking him, slow but hard. Dean's hands fist in the sheets and pillowcases and he cries out with each thrust, while Castiel smooths his hands over Dean's back and tells him what a good mate he is, how much Castiel loves to fuck him and how he can't wait to get his knot inside.

Finally, he can tell Dean is getting close again, and Castiel is getting close himself. He bends down over Dean's back, peppering it with kisses as he reaches around and takes Dean's big alpha dick in his hand, pumping it in time with his thrusts. Just as Dean's pleas turn into babbling, and Castiel can feel Dean's knot swelling hard in his hand just like his own knot is, he pushes in farther, and _oh god_. There is no way an omega could feel as good and as tight around a knot as his mate's ass does. He starts to come almost immediately, squeezing Dean's knot. Then Dean is coming, too, and the pressure around his knot only increases. They're both shouting, and Castiel bites down on Dean's neck over his actual mating bite and holds on while his knot pumps wave after wave of come into his mate.

They finally drop down onto the bed together, spent. Cas wraps his arms around Dean's waist and cuddles close, always happy to hold Dean and shower him with more praise while they wait for his knot to go down.

"You're so good for me, Dean. So fucking hot. Such a good alpha, opening yourself up for your mate like that, letting me in so easily because you know you're mine."

"Cas, fuck, you feel so good inside me. Wanna feel you pump more of that come inside me, baby, come on, I know you can get more out."

Castiel nuzzles under Dean's ear, licking and nipping at the skin, and reaches down for his mate's still-hard dick. Blood bond pheromones, they've discovered, do wonderful things for an alpha's stamina.

"You know the easiest way to do that," he rumbles, and starts to stroke Dean again, keeping his hand near the knot and squeezing it tight.

It barely takes a minute to bring Dean to orgasm again, and the feeling of Dean clenching around him is all it takes to push Cas back over the edge. Their second orgasms are shorter and less intense, which is to say they're the kind of average orgasms they usually have without Cas's knot in Dean's ass. 

Cas's knot goes down fairly soon after that, and they shower and dress and check in on Jimmy's progress. Jimmy's sister is his labor coach and is sending them regular texts. He hasn't started pushing yet, so they double-check the nursery, then go through the diaper bag and make sure they have all the supplies they've discussed. They'd sent texts to their family letting them know it was the big day, and they have to send out a round of "no, not yet" texts as people start to get antsy.

"What the hell, why is Sam even asking? Jess was in labor for nearly a day with both their kids. Jimmy's going at warp speed compared to her. He knows this shit takes time."

Finally, three hours later, they get the message: Jimmy is about to start pushing. They know that it can still take an hour or two even from that point, but they head to the hospital and finish the time in the waiting room.

Two hours later, a nurse comes out to call them. 

They go into a delivery room, and meet their daughter.

They do not, in fact, have sex again for nearly four months.

**Author's Note:**

> Things I learned while writing this fic:
> 
> 1\. I am capable of writing 30K words in a week if I really have to.  
> 2\. Way too much about the pituitary gland.  
> 3\. Way too much about omegaverse.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> I can finally go back to working on my WIPs. *whew*
> 
> [My Tumblr.](http://porcupine-girl.tumblr.com)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cover for "Unwritten" by PorcupineGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9643586) by [RunawayMarbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunawayMarbles/pseuds/RunawayMarbles)




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